WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 


BOOKS  BY  ENOS  A.  MILLS 

WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 
ADVENTURES  OF  A  NATURE  GUIDE 
THE    GRIZZLY,  OUR    GREATEST    WILD 

ANIMAL 

IN  BEAVER  WORLD 
ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  WONDERLAND 
STORY  OF  A  THOUSAND-YEAR  PINE 
WILD  LIFE  ON  THE  ROCKIES 
STORY  OF  ESTES  PARK,  GRAND  LAKE, 

AND  ROCKY  MOUNTAIN  NATIONAL  PARK 
STORY  OF  SCOTCH 
SPELL  OF  THE  ROCKIES 
YOUR  NATIONAL  PARKS 


Photo  by  W.  F.  Enin 

Pigeon  and  Turret  Peaks  from  Emerald  Lake,  San  Juan 
mountains,  southern  Colorado 


WAITING  in  the 
WILDERNESS 


BY 
ENOS  A.  MILLS 


ILLUSTRATED  FROM 
PHOTOGRAPHS 


GARDEN    CITY,  N.  Y.,  AND  TORONTO 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 
1921 


COPYRIGHT,  1920,  1921,  BY 

DOUBLEDAY,   PAGE   &  COMPANY 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED,   INCLUDING  THAT  OF    TRANSLATION 


COPYRIGHT,  IQ20,  BY  PERRY  MASON  COMPANY 
COPYRIGHT,  IQl8,  IQig,  IQ2O,  BY  THE  SPKAGUE  PUBLISHING  CO. 


To 
JACK  CHAPMAN 


PREFACE 

I  WAS  standing  against  a  tall  stump  in  the 
edge  of  a  woods  opening  when  a  black  bear 
walked  by.  He  stopped,  took  a  good  look  at 
me,  bristled  up,  edged  away,  stopped  for  an- 
other look.  "No,"  he  seemed  to  say  to  himself, 
"that  is  just  a  stump/'  He  walked  out  into  the 
grassy  opening,  dug  for  mice,  then  ambled  off 
into  the  woods. 

This  grass  plot  was  a  wilderness  meeting- 
place  for  wild  folks.  Half  a  dozen  wild-life 
trails  crossed  it  or  terminated  in  it.  There 
were  numberless  air  routes  to  and  through  it 
traversed  by  bats,  butterflies,  and  birds.  Often 
the  wild  life  ceased  to  search  for  food,  played 
their  primitive  games  with  enthusiasm,  and 
sometimes  they  had  battles  or  courtships. 

Often  I  came  back  to  this  place  to  note  the 
changes  in  the  flowers  or  the  growth  of  the  birds 
in  the  neighbourhood  nests. 

Another  day  I  sat  just  a  big  bump  on  a  log, 
in  the  other  side  of  the  woods  opening.  A 
family  of  skunks,  a  coyote,  and  a  number  of 
grouse  passed  near  and  each  of  these  appeared  to 

vii 


viii  PREFACE 

think  that  I  was  just  a  bump  on  a  log.  More 
than  a  score  of  species  of  birds  this  day  alighted 
near  by  without  giving  me  a  second  look.  Toward 
evening  a  mink  came  out  of  the  brook  at  the 
end  of  the  log,  looked  at  me  three  or  four  times, 
and  then  proceeded  to  take  a  dust  bath.  But 
a  beaver  who  came  out  of  the  water  had  scarcely 
looked  at  me  when  he  apparently  caught  my 
scent.  With  a  splashing  dive  he  disappeared 
down  stream.  Once  as  I  lay  on  a  pile  of  bould- 
ers a  number  of  Bighorn  sheep  passed  near  by,  ut- 
terly unconcerned  at  my  form  which  they  ap- 
parently mistook  for  a  boulder. 

Long  before  I  thought  of  becoming  a  Nature 
Guide  I  moved  slowly,  so  as  not  to  alarm  the 
thousand  kinds  of  wild  people  of  the  woods  who 
are  eternally  vigilant  with  eyes  or  ears  for  the 
sight  or  the  scent  of  a  swiftly  moving  object. 
And  I  went  frequently  to  the  same  place  and 
often  waited  long  in  the  wilderness. 

I  tracked  bears,  hunted  fossils — geologic  ani- 
mals— camped  in  beaver  colonies,  watched  storms 
on  the  heights,  going  into  the  places  where  they 
roared  the  loudest,  and  went  in  search  of  coast- 
ing snowslides  and  landslides. 

In  every  state  in  the  Union  there  are  numer- 
ous wild  places  in  which  if  one  wait  in  the 
wilderness  he  will  see  the  wild  folks  come. 
Many  of  the  unsuspected  plays  and  ways  of 


PREFACE  ix 

wilderness  folks  have  been  seen  by  those  who 
move  through  the  woods  slowly  and  who  go  fre- 
quently to  the  same  place — these  are  the  joys  of 
waiting  in  the  wilderness. 

A  number  of  the  chapters  in  this  book  have 
been  used  by  The  American  Boy,  Country  Life  in 
America,  and  The  Youth's  Companion,  and  I  ap- 
preciate the  courtesy  of  the  editors  of  these 
magazines  in  allowing  me  to  reprint  this  ma- 
terial. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  COASTING  OFF  THE  ROOF  OF  THE  WORLD  .  3 

II.  HUNTING  ANIMALS  OF  PAST  AGES        .      .  19 

III.  CELEBRATING  GROUND-HOG  DAY  ...  37 

IV.  PIRATES  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS    ....  55 
V.  TRAVELLING  WITH  A  BEAVER  ....  70 

VI.  CAMPING  ON  THE  PLAINS 81 

VII.  THE  LION  PLAYS  SOFT  PEDAL.      .      .      .  103 

VIII.  FOLLOWING  A  CONCEALED  TRAIL  .      .      .  118 

IX.  THE  HAPPY-GO-LUCKY  BLACK  BEAR  .      .  129 

X.  A  COLLIE  IN  THE  DESERT 136 

XL  A  WILD  THOROUGHBRED 149 

XII.  A  BLIND  GUIDE 160 

XIII.  TRAMP  DAYS  OF  GRIZZLY  CUBS     .      .      .  172 

XIV.  SNOWSLIDES  FROM  START  TO  FINISH    .      .  183 
XV.  BILL  McCLAiN — PROSPECTOR       .      .      .  198 

XVI.  AN  OPEN  SEASON  ON  NATURE  STORIES     .  209 

XVII.  NATURE  GUIDING  AT  HOME     ....  226 

xi 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Pigeon  and  Turret  Peaks  from  Emerald 

Lake Frontispiece 


FACING  PAGE 


The  way  of  the  wind — timber-line        .     .  4 

Evolution  of  the  horse 5 

The  spring  break-up 20 

An  old  sea  bottom      ...         ...  21 

Aspen  beaver  cuttings 52 

Long's  Peak  above  a  storm       ....  53 

The  shortest  day  of  the  year  in  the  Rocky 

Mountains 68 

The  outlet  of  Fern  Lake      .....  69 

A  black  bear  cub         .      .                          .  116 

Bear  claw  marks  on  aspens       ....  117 

Part  of  the  beaver  canal 132 

Last  climb  on  Long's  Peak       ....  133 

A  snow  slideway  through  the  woods   .      .  188 

Snowslide  wreckage 189 

A  bighorn   eats  salt    from  the  hand  of 

Enos  A.  Mills 228 

xiii 


WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 


Waiting  In  The  Wilderness 

CHAPTER  I 

COASTING   OFF   THE    ROOF    OF   THE    WORLD 

A  FOUR  o'clock  one  clear,  cold  Febru- 
ary morning  I  left  my  cabin  with  a  pair 
of  bear-paw  snowshoes  under  my  arm, 
a  hatchet  on  my  belt,  kodak,  field  glass,  ther- 
mometer, a  few  pounds  of  raisins,  and  elkskin 
sleeping  bag.  My  cabin  was  on  the  eastern 
slope  of  the  Continental  Divide  at  nine  thousand 
feet,  and  about  twelve  miles  from  the  summit. 
I  was  off  to  explore  the  winter  summit  of  the 
Divide,  to  see  the  snow  and  ice  fields,  frozen 
lakes,  and  also  to  have  a  look  at  the  winter 
ways  of  the  birds  and  animals  that  lived  on  the 
top,  from  twelve  to  thirteen  thousand  feet  above 
sea  level.  Being  alone  I  might  hurry  along  and 
make  the  other  side  by  night  or  might  go  lei- 
surely, stopping  to  watch  animals  or  turning 
aside  for  a  look  at  anything  that  interested  me. 

The  first  welcome  delay  came  when  a  few 
miles    from    my    cabin.     Eighteen    mountain 

3 


4-  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

shesp,  single  file,  came  suddenly  out  of  the 
woods.  They  broke  into  a  racing,  romping  gallop 
and  scattered  toward  a  frozen-over  water  hole. 
Eagerly  they  licked  up  the  salty,  alkaline  dust 
around  the  shore.  Three  little  lambs  stuck  out 
their  tongues,  smelled  the  ground,  tasted  it  in- 
differently, and  then  began  to  play.  By  and  by 
pairs  of  the  older  sheep  played.  They  jumped, 
butted,  and,  standing  on  hind  legs,  fenced  lightly 
and  in  a  lively  manner  with  their  horns. 

Large  holes  had  been  licked  into  the  earth 
around  this  alkaline  ooze  to  the  depth  of  two  or 
three  feet.  Sheep,  like  most  other  hoofed  ani- 
mals, appear  to  be  fond  of  salt  and  make  long 
journeys  for  it.  These  sheep  lived  on  Battle 
Mountain  above  timberline,  about  five  miles  from 
this  water  hole. 

After  watching  this  flock  for  some  time  I 
started  on  for  the  top.  There  was  no  snow 
around,  and  the  sunny  day  was  warm  as  is  com- 
mon for  many  of  the  winter  days  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  It  was  a  warm  climb  up  the  steep 
slope.  I  looked  back  down  the  slope  with  my 
field  glass.  The  old  sheep  were  lying  in  the 
sunshine  and  the  three  little  lambs  were  racing 
back  and  forth  across  the  grassy  opening  which 
was  enclosed  by  pines. 

From  the  top  of  a  bluff  I  looked  down  upon  a 
beaver  colony.  Several  ice-bound  ponds  were 


Photo  by  Enos  A.  Mills 

The  way  of  the  wind — timberline 


These  fossil  bones ,_  found  in  successive  geologic  formations  of  the  Age  of  Mammals,  sfto:v 
graphically  the  evolution  of  the  horse.  In  the  centre, 'skulls;  at  the  left,' hind  feet;  at  the  right, 
forefeet.  The  horse  whose  skull  is  shown  at  the  bottom  was  the  size  of  a  fox  terrier.  It  had 
four  complete  toes  in  fore  foot,  three  in  hind  fcot;  middle  toe  a  little  larger  than  side  toes. 
The  Oligocene  horse  was  the  size  of  a  sheep;  three  toes  complete  and  reaching  the  ground,  but 
middle  toe  enlarged;  outer  toe  of  the  fore  foot  reduced  to  a  short  splint.  The  Miocene  horse 
was  the  size  of  a  Shetland  pony;  side  toes  complete  but  slender,  and  did  not  reach  the  ground 
in  walking.  The  Pliocene  horse  was  the  size  of  a  donkey;  side  toes  complete  but  did  not  reach 
the  ground.  The  Pleistocene  horse  was  the  size  of  our  domesticated  horse;  side  toes  reduced  to 
splints  as  in  all  the  living  species.  At  this  point  the  race  became  extinct  in  America.  The 
modern  horse,  shown  at  the  top,  is  probably  bred  from  wild  races  which  inhabited  Asia, 
Europe,  and  Northern  Africa  in  prehistoric  times. 


COASTING  5 

shining  in  the  sun.  Climbing  down  to  them  I 
walked  across  the  main  pond.  A  large  house, 
recently  plastered,  thrust  up  five  feet  through 
the  ice.  The  four  or  five  inches  of  mud  and  small 
sticks  on  the  outside  of  the  house  were  frozen  as 
solid  as  stone.  There  was  no  sign  that  any  ani- 
mal had  tried  to  break  in  through  this  covering. 
Near  by  a  green  brush  heap  stuck  up  through 
the  ice.  This  brush  pile,  made  up  perhaps  of 
two  hundred  small  aspen  trees,  was  the  winter 
food  supply.  It  rested  on  the  bottom  of  the 
pond — was  canned  in  the  water.  A  beaver 
under  the  ice  easily  drags  one  of  these  green  sticks 
from  the  food  pile  to  his  house  entrance,  also 
on  the  bottom  of  the  pond,  and  then  up  to  the 
floor  of  the  house  which  is  just  above  waterline. 
Rabbits  hopped  about  in  the  shadows  eating 
willow  bark,  but  no  other  animals  were  in  sight. 

A  climb  of  about  a  thousand  feet  above  the 
beaver  colony,  through  a  dense,  tall  spruce  for- 
est, brought  me  to  timberline.  This  timberline 
was  a  stretch  of  forest  less  than  three  feet  high 
which  appeared  to  have  stood  here  as  long  as 
the  peaks  themselves.  That  each  of  these 
ancient-looking  trees  was  hundreds  of  years 
old  is  certain.  Farther  along  the  timberline  the 
trees  lay  upon  the  ground  as  though  they  had 
been  flattened  out  by  a  steam  roller.  A  few  of 
these  were  about  one  foot  in  diameter  and 


6  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

twenty  feet  long.  Here  and  there  a  badly  wind- 
blown tree,  with  a  thin  spread  of  limbs  on  just 
one  side,  looked  like  a  flagpole  waving  a  tattered 
green  banner.  The  windward  side  of  the  trunk 
was  bare.  In  other  places  there  were  clumps  of 
low-growing  trees  with  their  limbs  entangled  so 
thickly  that  the  sunlight  and  the  wind  could 
scarcely  break  through. 

One  tree  clump  was  deeply  set  in  snow.  It 
was  as  though  a  heavy  white  canvas  had  been 
spread  over  with  one  side  left  open.  This  was 
the  place  for  me  to  spend  the  night.  In  similar, 
though  better-covered  places,  many  a  bear  has 
hibernated.  In  I  pushed  my  sleeping  bag.  The 
night  was  cool,  my  thermometer  showing  ten  de- 
grees above  zero,  but  so  snug  was  this  shelter 
that  I  slept  on  my  sleeping  bag  and  not  in  it. 
My  fire  was  not  a  large  one,  but  was  arranged 
with  backlogs  which  reflected  a  part  of  the  heat 
into  my  almost  windproof  shelter. 

These  trees  were  11,300  feet  above  sea  level. 
This  is  5,000  feet,  almost  a  mile,  higher  up  the 
mountain  side  than  timberline  in  the  Alps. 
In  the  Alps  there  is  more  snow  and  more  cold, 
cloudy  days.  But  the  Rocky  Mountains,  having 
many  warm,  sunny  days,  provide  a  tree-growing 
climate  and  a  place  for  plants  and  birds  and  ani- 
mals to  live  a  mile  farther  up  into  the  sky  than 
they  can  in  the  Alps. 


COASTING  7 

A  short  distance  from  my  timberline  camp  the 
next  morning  I  came  to  the  largest  icicle  I  have 
ever  seen.  It  overhung  a  cliff  and  must  have 
been  two  hundred  feet  high.  At  the  top  it  was 
twenty  feet  or  more  in  diameter.  The  lower 
end  stood  on  an  icy  foundation  that  overspread 
the  rocks.  While  I  was  looking  at  a  number  of 
smaller  icicles  one  broke  away  and  fell  with  a 
crash.  Chunks  of  this  icicle  as  big  as  a  huge 
barrel  went  rolling  and  bounding  down  the 
mountain  side,  one  piece  remaining  unbroken 
until  it  crushed  into  the  tree  tops  at  timberline. 

Snow  covers  small  streams  and  protects  them 
from  freezing,  preventing  ice  forming  and  fill- 
ing in  their  channels.  But  during  a  winter  of 
but  little  snow  on  mountain  tops  many  a  spring 
overflows  its  ice-filled  channel.  Climbing  to 
the  top  of  the  cliff  to  which  these  icicles  hung,  I 
found  a  great  fanlike  span  of  ice  over  the  surface. 
This  was  about  three  hundred  feet  wide  at  the 
face  of  the  cliff.  There  was  a  spring  at  the  point 
of  the  "  V"  or  fan,  some  five  hundred  feet  up  the 
slope.  Without  snow  to  protect  this  spring  water, 
it  had  frozen  until  the  channel  was  filled  with 
ice.  Then  the  water  had  overflowed,  spreading 
and  freezing  wider  and  deeper.  This  fanlike 
span  of  ice  had  taken  about  three  months  to 
form  and  in  places  was  several  feet  deep.  Over 
the  face  of  the  cliff  were  icicles  of  all  sizes,  many 


8  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

beautiful  columns,  and  many  other  attractive  ice 
formations. 

Farther  up  the  slope  I  came  upon  a  flock  of 
ptarmigan — "white  quail."  They  allowed  me 
to  come  within  a  few  yards  of  them  without 
showing  alarm.  They  were  white,  wore  white 
leggings,  were  nearly  as  large  as  prairie  chickens, 
and  made  a  showy  appearance  as  they  walked 
along  the  brown,  bare  earth.  Three  of  them 
flew  a  short  distance  and  alighted  on  a  near-by 
snowdrift.  They  matched  the  snow  so  well  that 
I  lost  sight  of  them  the  instant  they  alighted. 
A  quarter  of  a  mile  below  the  summit  of  the  al- 
most level  mountain  top  a  flock  of  sheep  watched 
me  pass  within  two  hundred  feet  without  alarm 
or  retreat. 

At  last  I  stood  on  the  very  top  of  the  Con- 
tinental Divide  and  faced  the  noonday  sun.  I 
stretched  out  on  the  bare  granite  with  my  head 
and  shoulders  on  the  Atlantic  slope  and  my  feet 
on  the  Pacific  slope.  I  remembered  reading 
years  before  that  one  of  the  members  of  the 
Lewis  and  Clark  exploration  party  had  enjoyed 
standing  for  a  minute  with  one  foot  on  one  side 
the  Missouri  River  and  one  on  the  other  side. 
He  was  standing  near  the  top  of  the  Continental 
Divide  where  the  stream  began. 

I  stood  12,500  feet  above  sea  level  and  looked 
back  down  the  Atlantic  slope.  There  were 


COASTING  9 

dwarfed  and  storm-battered  trees  at  timberline 
with  here  and  there  a  forest  lake  or  a  grassy  open- 
ing showing  down  in  the  woods.  There  were 
only  a  few  snowdrifts.  Far  out  to  the  east 
about  one  hundred  miles  I  could  see  the  dry, 
brown  plains  in  eastern  Colorado. 

But  looking  down  the  slope  to  the  west  every- 
thing was  white.  From  a  few  hundred  feet  be- 
low where  I  was  standing  and  westward  for  one 
hundred  miles,  snow  lay  deep  over  everything; 
forests,  mountains,  and  valleys  were  all  in  white. 
It  frequently  happens  that  while  one  mountain- 
ous region  is  very  wintry,  another  locality  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  same  mountains  may 
be  having  mild  weather.  These  conditions  are 
often  found  along  opposite  sides  of  the  Conti- 
nental Divide;  occasionally  there  is  a  storm  on  the 
eastern  side  and  not  on  the  western,  and  some- 
times it  is  cold  on  the  western  side  while  there  is 
warm  sunshine  on  the  eastern.  But  I  enjoy  all 
weather. 

I  stood  looking  westward  at  this  steep,  snowy 
slope  down  the  very  roof  of  the  world.  What  a 
place  to  coast!  I  at  once  wished  for  a  dozen 
other  boys  to  try  it  with  me.  This  would  be  the 
place  for  speed — steep  places  with  long  plunges 
— great  rushes  through  the  air.  Hills  and  spe- 
cial toboggan  slides  would  be  gentle  and  tame 
compared  with  this  steep,  wild  mountain  side. 


io  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Wading  out  into  the  snow  I  sat  down  on  my 
snowshoes  and  away  we  went,  coasting  toward 
Pacific  sea  level.  Of  course  I  exceeded  the 
speed  limit.  The  smooth  slope  dropped  nearly 
a  thousand  feet  in  a  half  mile.  Toward  the 
bottom  I  struck  the  smoothest  place  of  all. 
Here  was  a  spring  that  had  overflowed  before 
the  snow  fell  and  coated  the  slope  with  almost 
smooth  ice.  Over  this  icy  slope  I  went  like 
a  rocket.  Near  the  bottom  it  flattened  out 
abruptly  and  I  was  shot  several  feet  into  the 
air  over  a  rainbow  pathway — like  a  football 
kicked  for  a  goal.  At  the  highest  point  I 
looked  down  into  the  tops  of  timberline  trees. 

After  twenty  or  thirty  feet  through  the  air 
I  came  back  to  earth  and  swept  forward  and 
downward  at  a  hair-raising  pace.  One  of  the 
dwarfed  little  trees  that  barely  stuck  up  through 
the  snow  caught  into  my  snowshoe  and  hung  on. 
The  shoe  was  torn  off  and  left  hanging  on  the 
tree  top,  while  I  tumbled  head  over  heels  into 
four  feet  of  snow.  But  this  was  the  greatest 
coast  I  had  ever  had.  I  looked  back  up  the  slope 
along  the  mark  I  had  made.  It  would  be  sun- 
down in  about  two  hours,  and  it  would  take 
about  that  long  to  climb  up  to  the  place  where  I 
had  started  to  coast.  But  rescuing  the  snowshoe 
I  climbed  up  the  slope  and  slid  off  the  roof  of  the 
world  again. 


COASTING  ii 

It  was  dark  when  this  coast  ended.  Pushing 
my  sleeping  bag  into  a  loose  snowdrift,  I  brushed 
the  snow  off  myself  and  slipped  into  the  bag, 
planning  after  a  sleep  to  get  up,  make  a  fire, 
and  have  supper — of  raisins — but  I  slept  through 
the  night. 

It  was  not  yet  daylight  when  I  awoke,  but  I 
concluded  to  have  another  royal  coast.  I  again 
climbed  the  slope  and  down  I  rushed,  landing 
several  hundred  feet  to  the  north  and  a  quarter 
of  a  mile  below  my  night  camp. 

After  getting  my  sleeping  bag  I  went  on  down 
the  slope  where  I  found  tracks  of  many  kinds 
in  the  deep  snow  in  the  forest.  There  were 
stitch-like  tracks  of  mice,  big  tracks  of  snow- 
shoe  rabbits,  trails  of  squirrels  to  their  supplies 
of  winter  cones  under  the  snow,  and  tracks  made 
by  grouse,  camp  birds,  and  crested  jays.  I  came 
upon  the  place  where  a  mouse  had  peeped  out  of 
a  hole  in  the  snow  and  had  been  captured  by 
an  owl.  At  another  place  a  coyote,  after  miles 
of  zigzag  wandering,  had  surprised  and  captured 
a  grouse  beneath  a  snow-covered  bush.  I  crossed 
the  tracks  of  a  three-footed  snowshoe  rabbit  fol- 
lowed by  the  tracks  of  a  wildcat  and  wished  I 
knew  their  story.  But  at  last  I  came  to  the 
tracks  of  big  animals — just  what  I  was  looking 
for. 

In  snowy  regions  the  moose,  deer,  and  elk  have 


12  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

winter  ways  which  enable  them  to  make  a  living 
and  to  outwit  enemies.  A  number  collect  in  a 
small  area  as  the  snow  begins  to  deepen  and 
keep  the  snow  well  trampled  down  so  that  they 
can  walk  on  top  of  it.  Crisscross  trails  and  their 
connected  trampled  spaces  enable  the  animals 
to  run  about,  to  retreat,  to  fight  off  their  enemies, 
and  to  find  something  to  eat.  In  autumn  they 
eat  the  mosses  and  dry  grass,  as  the  snow  deep- 
ens the  twigs  and  leaves  on  the  low-growing 
shrubbery — alder,  willow,  and  birch — and  as  they 
trample  the  deepening  snow  and  still  keep  on 
top  of  it  they  feed  upon  the  low  limbs  of  the 
aspen  and  other  trees  and  spruce  and  hemlock 
needles. 

I  came  upon  the  winter  yard  of  thirty  or  forty 
deer — a  trampled  space  of  a  half  mile  along  the 
fish-hook  course  of  a  mountain  stream.  A 
stretch  of  trampled  trail  passed  beneath  arch- 
ing willows.  At  one  point  there  was  a  small,  wet 
and  spongy  area  on  both  sides  of  the  stream 
where  much  of  the  snow  had  melted  as  it  fell. 
Over  this  the  deer  had  repeatedly  trampled, 
eating  the  leaves  and  stalks  of  the  blue  Mertensia 
and  other  plants.  These  were  still  green,  having 
been  crushed  down  and  preserved  beneath  the 
first  snowfall. 

One  steep  stretch  of  the  stream  was  very  swift 
and,  together  with  the  trampling  in,  it  had  not 


COASTING  13 

frozen  over.  Here  in  the  open  water  the  deer 
had  eaten  all  of  the  moss  and  water  plants  within 
reach.  Near  the  point  of  the  "yard"  a  snow- 
slide  had  come  down  from  the  long  slope  above, 
carrying  off  nearly  all  of  the  snow  in  its  path 
and  clearing  a  space  about  two  hundred  feet 
wide  and  several  hundred  feet  long.  Over  this 
cleared  space  the  deer  had  trampled,  eating  the 
exposed  dead  vegetation.  In  it  they  had  often 
sunned  themselves  and  lain  down. 

A  deer  yard  full  of  animals  is  not  to  be  seen 
every  day.  So  I  decided  not  to  go  farther  but  to 
have  a  look  into  every  corner  of  this  yard,  and 
also  to  watch  these  big-eared,  white-tailed  fel- 
lows. If  I  wanted  other  excitement  there  was  a 
deep,  dark  canon  near  by  that  might  be  looked 
into.  Near  the  yard  I  made  a  permanent  camp. 
I  built  a  fire  in  front  of  a  cliff  which  soon  melted 
the  snow  and  made  a  little  dry  open  place  for  my 
sleeping  bag.  I  usually  kept  a  fire  going  all 
night,  rising  two  or  three  times  to  put  on  wood. 
Before  getting  into  the  sleeping  bag  I  took  off 
my  shoes  and  put  on  a  pair  of  moccasins,  leav- 
ing all  of  my  other  clothes  on.  The  canvas 
lining  of  my  sleeping  bag  was  removed  each  day 
and  aired. 

I  ranged  around  this  deer  yard  for  two  days. 
In  walking  through  and  around  it  I  occasionally 
came  close  to  the  deer.  They  retreated  without 


i4  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

great  alarm,  usually  over  several  of  the  criss- 
crossing trails,  to  another  part  of  the  yard.  Lion 
tracks  leading  into  the  yard  from  the  woods 
showed  that  a  lion  had  sneaked  upon  the  deer. 
But  evidently  he  had  been  outwitted. 

Climbing  down  into  a  deep,  snowy  canon,  a 
tree  limb  that  I  was  clinging  to  broke  and  I 
tumbled  forward.  In  falling  I  had  a  glimpse  of  a 
fresh  bear  track  in  the  snow  where  I  was  to 
alight.  I  had  been  hoping  to  see  a  bear  track 
but  when  I  landed  upon  this  one  I  did  not  know 
what  to  do  with  it.  Quickly  scrambling  to  my 
feet  I  looked  all  around  but  could  see  only  a 
few  yards  off  because  of  thick  timber.  Sud- 
denly I  heard  a  furry  rustle  behind.  I  turned 
quickly,  stepped  on  a  snowshoe,  and  took  another 
header.  A  camp  bird  behind  me  gave  a  low  call. 
Then  I  braced  up. 

A  bear  track  at  any  time  is  exciting  enough, 
but  it  is  a  hair-raising  surprise  to  fall  upon  one 
in  a  canon.  From  where  I  stood  I  could  see 
that  this  fellow  had  reared  up  with  forepaws 
against  a  tree  limb  and  I  suppose  looked  and  lis- 
tened. Closer  to  me  the  mixed-up  tracks  and 
a  bunch  of  hair  on  a  limb  showed  that  he  had 
been  scratching  his  back.  Moving  slowly  and 
softly  from  tree  to  tree  I  slipped  forward.  The 
tracks  entered  a  regular  trail  deep  in  the  snow 
where  this  bear  had  gone  back  and  forth.  I 


COASTING  15 

followed  this,  cautiously,  to  the  side  of  a  dark 
wooded  canon  where  there  was  a  bear  den. 

From  the  den  the  trail  led  up  the  side  of  a 
canon,  across  a  little  opening  in  the  forest,  and 
then  on  top  of  a  large  crag.  Here  in  the  sunshine 
the  bear  could  see  in  all  directions.  Apparently 
this  bear  had  come  forth  from  his  den  a  number 
of  times  and  made  his  way  to  this  crag  to  enjoy 
a  sun  bath. 

Nearly  all  bears  hibernate.  Grizzly  bears  in 
the  Rockies  near  my  home  hibernate  from  three 
to  five  months.  I  have  found  their  dens  in  the 
side  of  a  canon  beneath  the  roots  of  a  tree, 
beneath  a  number  of  fallen  logs,  or  in  a  little 
tunnel  in  a  gravelly  mountain  side;  and  a  few 
times  I  have  found  dens  beneath  a  regular  hay- 
stack of  limbs,  trash,  grass,  and  bark  which  the 
bear  piled  up  and  then  crawled  into.  With  his 
stomach  empty,  about  the  first  of  December,  the 
bear  crawls  into  his  den  and  goes  to  sleep.  He 
appears  not  to  eat  or  drink  anything  until  the 
next  spring.  But  grizzly  bears,  and  perhaps 
other  bears,  occasionally  come  forth  toward 
spring  for  an  airing  or  for  exercise. 

I  started  to  return  to  my  camp  by  the  cliff, 
but  on  the  way  I  encountered  another  fresh 
grizzly  bear  track.  I  back-tracked  this,  plan- 
ning to  examine  his  abandoned  den.  But  it 
was  close  to  night  when  I  arrived,  and  as  I  was 


16  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

several  miles  from  camp  I  thought  to  spend  the 
night  in  the  den.  The  gravelly  floor  was  per- 
fectly clean  except  for  a  few  bits  of  dried  skin 
off  his  feet  and  some  hair,  but  the  den  was  too 
smelly.  So  out  I  went  to  spend  the  night  in  the 
open  without  my  sleeping  bag.  A  short  distance 
from  the  den  I  found  a  cave-like  place  between 
large  rocks.  Cutting  a  number  of  small  tree 
limbs  I  stuffed  these  into  the  larger  openings 
between  rocks  and  shut  off  the  wind  in  that  di- 
rection. Then  using  a  snowshoe  I  scooped  out 
the  snow  and  started  a  small  fire  burning  all 
over  the  floor  of  the  cave  to  warm  and  dry  it. 

I  was  in  the  edge  of  a  forest  of  fire-killed  trees 
and  there  was  plenty  of  wood.  Although  it  was 
rather  snowy  handling  I  gathered  a  quantity.  I 
laid  down  three  short  logs  in  front  of  the  opening, 
across  these  laid  smaller  ones,  and  on  top  of  these 
piled  still  smaller  ones,  with  kindling  at  the  top. 

Pushing  the  small  fire  to  the  front  I  set  fire 
to  this  big  pile  at  the  top  so  that  it  would  burn 
slowly.  On  the  fire-warmed  ground  I  slept 
three  hours  without  wakening.  Then  the  fire 
had  pretty  well  burned  down;  my  thermometer 
said  it  was  ten  below  zero.  But  there  was  no 
air  stirring  and  the  night  was  surprisingly  calm. 
Throwing  on  more  wood  I  had  another  sleep. 
On  awakening  I  started  to  trail  the  bear. 

I  did  not  have  a  gun,  but  the  wilds  are  one  of 


COASTING  17 

the  safest  places  in  the  world  without  one. 
Bears  attempt  to  kill  only  those  who  attempt 
to  kill  them,  and  I  hadn't  any  notion  of  trying 
this.  What  I  was  doing  in  the  way  of  camping 
any  boy  could  do,  and  it  wouldn't  cost  much, 
either.  My  equipment  was  not  at  all  expensive. 
About  all  there  was  to  it  was  the  sleeping  bag  and 
the  snowshoes.  Of  course  I  always  carried  a 
camera. 

Trailing  this  bear  took  me  within  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  of  my  camp.  So  I  got  my  sleeping  bag, 
thinking  to  be  better  prepared  for  the  next  night 
in  case  I  trailed  the  bear  far  away.  After  wan- 
dering about  in  the  woods  for  some  miles  the 
bear  struck  straight  for  the  top  of  the  Continental 
Divide.  At  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I 
followed  his  tracks  over  the  top  and  started  down 
the  eastern  slope.  We  then  were  at  least  fifteen 
miles  from  his  former  den.  On  reaching  timber- 
line  on  the  eastern  side  he  started  along  the 
mountain  side  as  though  going  to  a  definite 
place,  so  I  walked  slowly,  keeping  a  sharp  look- 
out for  him.  At  last,  looking  with  my  field 
glass,  I  saw  him  sitting  in  the  sunshine  by  a  hole 
which  evidently  was  the  entrance  to  an  old  den. 

After  watching  him  for  some  time  he  rolled 
over  in  the  snow,  rubbed  his  back,  then  went 
into  the  hole.  Apparently  he  had  become  tired 
of  his  former  den  or  for  some  other  cause  had 


1 8  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

made  a  change.  Probably  he  had  used  this 
second  den  before. 

Although  I  had  planned  to  call  on  settlers  on 
the  western  slope,  I  found  that  a  bear  had  led 
me  half  way  home.  I  had  not  seen  a  single  per- 
son or  passed  even  a  deserted  house. 

My  days  for  this  vacation  were  numbered 
and  as  I  was  now  on  the  eastern  side  of  the  Di- 
vide, I  started  homeward  over  the  twenty-mile 
stretch  to  my  cabin.  The  coyotes  yelped  mer- 
rily under  the  stars.  I  could  readily  see  to 
travel  at  night.  At  about  one  o'clock  in  the 
morning  I  threw  my  sleeping  bag  on  the  floor  of 
my  cabin. 


CHAPTER  II 

HUNTING    FOR   THE    ANIMALS    OF    PAST   AGES 

YEARS  ago  I  arrived  in  a  camp  on  the 
John  Day  River,  Oregon,  where  a  party 
of  scientists  were  digging  out  fossils — the 
mineralized  bones  of  prehistoric  animals.  Two 
geologists  were  examining  a  fragment  of  a  sabre- 
toothed  tiger  that  had  just  been  brought  in. 
When  I  told  the  scientist  in  charge  of  my  desire 
to  see  prehistoric  animals,  he  replied  that  he 
would  be  only  too  glad  to  have  me  stay  in  camp 
and  explore  the  surrounding  country  for  fossils. 
This  was  exactly  what  I  wanted  to  do. 

The  following  morning,  feeling  like  a  mighty 
hunter,  I  set  off,  armed  with  only  a  pick,  to  hunt 
for  the  giants  of  old.  Two  miles  or  so  from  camp 
I  began  climbing  the  steep  north  wall  of  the 
canon,  having  been  told  to  look  for  "sign"  in  the 
walls  of  every  canon.  I  knew  something  of 
trailing  horses  and  had  tracked  and  trailed 
wild  animals  with  a  kodak,  but  hunting  for 
extinct  otters,  beavers,  elephants,  and  wild  dogs 
proved  just  as  exciting.  The  prehistoric  life 
in  this  region  had  lived  in  what  geologists  call 

19 


20  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

the  Oligocene  Epoch,  three  or  four  million  years 
ago. 

High  up  on  the  side  of  the  canon  wall  I  looked 
down  into  the  tops  of  the  tall  spruces  growing 
near  the  river.  The  water  was  foaming  and 
roaring  through  bouldery  rapids.  Numbers  of 
ravens  flew  about  or  sat  black  and  solemn  on 
rock  points  at  the  top  of  the  canon. 

In  places  the  ashen  rock  was  crumbly,  the 
canon  ledges  narrow,  and  parts  of  the  wall 
nearly  perpendicular.  My  previous  Rocky  Moun- 
tain climbing  experiences  were  now  useful.  Lit- 
tle by  little  I  explored  half  a  mile  along  the 
face  of  the  wall.  This  brought  me  close  to  the 
skyline.  The  wall  above  me  was  perpendicular 
and  if  I  could  climb  upon  that  yellowish  out- 
jutting  rock  I  could  then  reach  the  rim  and  pull 
myself  to  the  top.  As  the  out-jutting  rock 
was  large  enough  to  support  an  elephant,  and 
as  it  showed  no  crack,  I  climbed  carefully  upon 
it.  But  as  I  straightened  up  and  was  balancing 
on  it  the  thing  broke  off. 

My  pick  was  fastened  on  my  back  but  it 
loosened,  dropped,  and  glanced  from  a  rock  far 
out  into  space.  I  saw  it  as  I  fell  away.  But  I 
struck  several  feet  below  in  a  collection  of  vol- 
canic ashes  and  gravel,  then  rolled  and  slid 
thirty  feet  farther  before  I  could  stop.  Quarts 
of  sand  and  ashes  had  gone  down  my  open  shirt 


spring  break-up 


Photo  by  Enos  A.  Mills 


LI.  S.  Geological  Survey 


An  old  sea  bottom, 
of  erosion. 


Rocks  carry  fossils  uncovered  by  ages 
Smokestack  Rock,  Nebraska 


HUNTING  FOR  ANIMALS  OF  PAST  AGES   21 

collar.  I  stripped  and  did  dry  cleaning  before 
going  down  to  the  river  for  my  pick.  My  left 
thumb  was  swollen  to  twice  its  usual  size,  and 
there  was  a  noticeable  bump  on  my  forehead. 
But  I  was  a  fossil  hunter. 

While  shaking  out  the  gravel  I  was  attracted 
by  a  piece  of  the  rock  that  had  broken  from  the 
canon  wall  and  given  me  the  tumble.  I  picked 
up  the  small,  brittle  fragment.  It  was  a  fos- 
sil. Most  fossils  are  brittle,  and  during  the 
weeks  of  cliff  climbing  that  followed  I  saw  many 
fossils  projecting  from  the  walls  but  did  not  use 
them  for  steep  rock  climbing. 

After  using  my  pick  for  about  two  hours  the 
broken  rock  proved  to  be  a  nest  of  fossils.  This 
was  in  easily  worked  volcanic  ashen  material, 
and  in  my  excitement  I  forgot  lunch  and  all  about 
going  to  the  top,  and  not  until  near  sundown  did 
I  notice  the  time.  It  was  after  dark  when  I 
reached  camp  carrying  one  of  the  fossils.  This 
so  interested  the  scientist  that  the  following 
morning  he  went  out  with  me.  When  we  ar- 
rived at  the  fossil  nest  in  the  canon  wall  he 
promptly  sent  me  to  camp  for  two  men.  Then 
under  his  supervision  we  dug  out  the  entire  pile 
of  fossils. 

That  evening,  with  everyone  seated  around  the 
camp-fire,  he  arose  to  announce  my  find,  as  was 
his  way  with  each  new  discovery.  The  men 


22  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

had  been  joking  me  concerning  the  queer  animals 
I  might  discover,  but  as  this  was  my  first  eve- 
ning to  hear  announcements  I  felt  certain  that 
I  had  made  an  extraordinary  find.  In  the  sud- 
den hush  before  the  scientist  began  speaking,  I 
wondered  if  the  larger  fossils  might  not  be  those 
of  an  elephant. 

"The  beast  found  yesterday  by  the  Kid  is 
the  first  of  the  species  to  be  discovered  by  our 
party.  It  is  a  Giant  Pig." 

Laughter  and  cheers  greeted  this  statement. 

"  Look  out,  Kid,  you  may  meet  a  bigger  one  to- 
morrow/' called  the  cook. 

"This  one,"  continued  the  scientist,  "is  large 
enough;  he  will  measure  about  six  feet  high, 
and  he  resembles  an  Arkansas  razor-back." 

This  party,  including  myself,  numbered  eight. 
There  was  not  a  grouch  in  the  party;  the 
cook,  and  in  fact  each  man,  was  not  only  good- 
natured  but  did  much  jollying.  I  suppose  I 
was  the  storm  centre  of  most  jokes  and  it  was 
impossible  to  guess  when  a  storm  was  coming;  it 
simply  came — and  often. 

Our  camp,  of  six  white  tents,  was  within  an 
easy  stone's  throw  of  the  river.  Tall  scattered 
spruces  stood  about  us  and  the  canon  walls  rose 
steeply  and  high  into  the  sky.  One  of  the  tents 
was  dining  room,  cook  room,  and  home  for  the 
cook.  One  was  used  for  storeroom  for  both 


HUNTING  FOR  ANIMALS  OF  PAST  AGES    23 

supplies  and  fossils,  and  the  others  for  sleeping 
quarters.  I  did  not  care  for  a  tent,  so  slept  out 
under  an  overhanging  rock  by  the  north  canon 
wall.  We  were  perhaps  sixty  miles  south  of 
the  Columbia  River  and  about  fifty  miles  south- 
west of  Mount  Hood. 

The  Fire  Mountains,  as  the  Indians  called 
volcanoes,  had  long,  long  ago  covered  the  region 
with  thousands  of  feet  of  ashes  and  lava. 
Mount  Hood,  Mount  Mazama — the  wrecked 
remnant  of  which  now  is  Crater  Lake — Mount 
Shasta,  and  other  volcanoes  with  ash  showers  re- 
peated at  long  intervals,  covered  thousands  of 
square  miles  deeply.  For  ages,  between  these 
showers,  trees  grew  in  the  ashen  region,  and 
thousands  of  prehistoric  animals  roamed  over  it. 
Then  these  showers,  or  the  wind,  buried  both 
trees  and  animals,  and  their  skeletons  were 
changed  to  fossils.  The  layers  of  ashes,  due  to 
their  own  weight  and  natural  cement,  were 
changed  into  stone;  and  water  and  the  chemicals 
in  the  ashes  changed  the  bones  also  into  a  kind 
of  stone — into  fossils.  Where  not  crushed  or 
broken  these  bones,  though  stone,  still  look  much 
like  old  bones. 

These  geologic  changes  took  place  two  million 
or  more  years  ago.  More  recently  the  entire 
region  was  capped  with  a  lava  flow  more  than  a 
thousand  feet  thick.  This  is  one  of  the  largest 


24  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

lava  flows  known  to  geological  history.  During 
the  ages  that  have  followed,  rain  and  river  have 
been  steadily  washing  off  the  surface  and  cutting 
channels  and  canons  down  into  this  plateau. 
Many  rivers,  especially  the  John  Day,  cut  down 
into  fossil  deposits.  Numbers  of  fossils  were 
washed  away,  but  others,  uncovered  by  the 
river,  were  in  places  to  be  seen  sticking  in  the 
walls  of  the  canon. 

Dozens  of  different  species  of  animals  left 
their  fossils  in  this  old  ashen  rock.  Among  these 
were  tiny,  ancient  horses.  At  one  time  thou- 
sands of  tiny  horses,  hardly  knee  high  to  a  man, 
roamed  over  Oregon.  One  evening  by  the  camp- 
fire  which  was  between  the  cook's  tent  and  the 
river,  one  of  the  men  asked  what  I  wanted  to 
find.  "A  horse,"  was  my  answer.  Everyone 
laughed  loudly  when  the  scientist  asked  if  it 
was  the  Chalicothere  model. 

The  scientist  continued,  "The  Chalicothere, 
now  extinct,  appears  to  have  been  about  the 
size  of  a  modern  horse,  with  a  body  of  a  horse, 
head  and  neck  giraffe-like,  but  feet  with  claws 
somewhat  resembling  those  of  a  bear."  "That's 
a  good  circus  model,"  called  the  cook.  "Are 
you  certain  that  there  is  an  open  season  on 
him?"  I  asked.  An  excited  hunter,  I  set  off  the 
following  morning  with  my  pick  to  look  for  a 
Chalicothere  in  one  of  the  smaller  distant  canons 


HUNTING  FOR  ANIMALS  OF  PAST  AGES   25 

in  the  top  of  the  plateau.  "  If  I  get  one  I  shall 
want  you  to  come  out  with  your  kodak  and  take 
my  picture  with  him,  so  as  to  follow  the  fashion 
of  hunters  who  take  prizes,"  I  told  the  cook. 

Each  man  had  in  mind  some  one  fossil  animal 
which  he  was  eager  to  find  and  several  other  fos- 
sils which  he  would  have  been  just  as  much 
pleased  to  discover.  Among  the  animals  in 
which  the  men  expressed  interest  while  chatting 
around  the  camp-fire  were  horses,  tigers,  beavers, 
otters,  rhinoceroses,  titanotheres,  wild  dogs,  wild 
hogs,  badgers,  tapirs,  squirrels,  skunks,  rabbits. 

These  and  other  species  had  left  their  fossils 
in  this  old  Oregon  plateau. 

Apparently  where  these  animals  had  lived  was 
plains  region  and  covered  with  more  or  less 
open  growths  of  trees  and  possibly  bushes. 
Fossil  trees,  "petrified  forests,"  have  been  found. 
These  consisted  of  broken,  fallen  logs,  a  number 
of  them  charred,  and  stumps  still  rooted  where 
they  grew.  Among  the  kinds  of  fossil  trees  are 
redwood,  walnut,  sycamore,  alder,  cherry-birch, 
willow,  pine,  poplar,  sumac,  and  magnolia. 

A  mild,  warm  climate  appears  to  have  pre- 
vailed. The  only  kinds  of  stumps  that  we  un- 
covered, as  I  recall,  were  redwood — like  the 
present  California  redwood — willow,  and  a  mag- 
nolia somewhat  like  that  now  found  in  the 
southern  states. 


26  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

These  John  Day  fossil  beds  are  world  famous 
and  fossils  from  the  region  are  now  gathered  in 
many  museums  and  in  several  private  collec- 
tions. Numbers  of  these  fossil  animals  may  be 
classed  almost  as  monstrosities — a  mixture  of 
two  or  more  species  of  animals.  The  Chalico- 
there,  for  instance,  appears  to  have  been  made 
up  of  parts  now  seen  in  three  or  more  species. 
The  Australian  duck-bill,  an  egg-laying  animal 
with  body  of  an  otter  and  bill  of  a  duck,  is  one 
of  the  few  present  species  that  still  have  a  mixed 
make-up.  It  is  a  living  fossil.  But  in  the  ages 
that  followed  the  Oligocene  there  were  changes 
of  climate,  and  grass  and  other  kinds  of  new  food 
developed,  and  these  caused  changes  in  the  animal 
life.  The  John  Day  species  lived  in  an  epoch 
when  modern  forms  were  being  developed  but 
had  not  yet  taken  a  distinct  form.  Numbers  of 
species  of  geologic  animals  became  extinct  long 
ago.  But  all  our  present  species  of  animals  are 
descendants  of  geologic  species  which  did  not 
become  extinct  but  which  changed  from  age  to 
age  and  finally  took  on  the  modern  model. 

"Has  any  one  found  a  deer  horn  among  the 
fossils?"  I  one  day  asked. 

"No;  during  the  Oligocene  times  the  true  deer 
had  not  yet  developed,  and  none  I  think  then 
had  horns,"  answered  one  of  the  geologists.  "A 
little  later  a  deer  did  exist  and  he  had  four 


HUNTING  FOR  ANIMALS  OF  PAST  AGES   27 

horns;  two  on  top  of  the  head  and  two  just  above 
the  nose.  He  had  teeth  somewhat  like  those  of 
a  dog." 

This  sounded  like  one  of  the  strange  stories  so 
often  told  for  my  benefit,  but  the  geologist  went 
on  to  say: 

"Many  of  the  strange  animal  species  of  Oli- 
gocene  times  changed  slowly  through  the  ages 
which  followed,  and  more  and  more  became  like 
the  animals  which  we  have  to-day.  While  the 
Oligocene  horse  and  wild  dog  and  beaver  and 
numbers  of  other  animals  but  little  resemble  our 
horses,  dogs,  and  beavers  of  to-day,  they  were 
after  all  the  ancient  ancestors  of  those  now  living, 
and  in  fossils  of  animals  who  lived  between  the  Oli- 
gocene Period  and  the  present  we  find  forms  that 
show  a  series  of  changes  through  which  they  ad- 
vanced from  the  peculiar  forms  of  the  Oligocene 
to  the  specialized  forms  of  to-day." 

Another  animal  which  the  men  were  ever 
warning  me  to  "watch  out  for"  was  one  which 
had  hoofs  like  a  cow  and  that  climbed  trees  like  a 
cat.  A  queer,  though  small,  animal  of  this 
type  did  once  live. 

"  In  the  Oligocene  times,"  said  one  of  the  geolo- 
gists to  me  one  evening,  "lived  an  animal  with  a 
five-jointed  name  who  might  have  been  a  weather 
prophet.  He  was  not  unlike  a  ground-hog  and 
lived  in  a  den;  but  he  had  horns  on  his  head." 


28  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

"There  ain't  no  such  animal,"  I  replied.  But 
there  was  in  one  age  just  such  a  beast. 

All  one  day  the  scientist  was  out  with  me.  We 
climbed  to  the  top  of  the  plateau  and  went  to  a 
dry  canon  about  twelve  miles  from  camp.  On 
the  way  over  I  asked  him  if  all  fossils  were  formed 
beneath  volcanic  ashes.  He  replied  that  many 
were  formed  beneath  wind-blown  sand,  a  few  in 
caves,  numbers  in  fissures  or  cracks  that  earth- 
quakes make  in  every  kind  of  surface  rock,  and 
now  and  then  an  animal  sank  into  a  bog,  swamp, 
or  quicksand  and  became  a  fossil.  There  are 
many  ways  and  places  in  which  animals  or  plants 
change  to  fossils  but  the  most  common  place 
is  in  the  mud  bottom  of  a  lake  or  the  seashore. 
Perhaps  the  majority  of  fossils  are  formed  in 
the  mud  of  river  deltas  below  water  level.  The 
water  in  circulating  removes  the  animal  or  vege- 
table matter  of  remains  buried  below  water  level 
and  deposits  mineral  matter  in  its  place.  Most 
fossils  thus  are  mineralized  stone.  Rarely  is  any 
of  the  original  animal  or  plant  preserved. 

He  went  on  to  say  that  any  record  left  by  the 
life  of  other  ages  is  a  fossil.  The  impression  of  a 
leaf,  so  often  seen  on  sandstone,  a  mould  left 
after  a  buried  body  decays,  a  track  made  in  mud, 
later  turned  to  stone,  are  fossils.  Among  the 
other  things  not  often  thought  of  as  being  fossils 
are  amber  and  coal. 


HUNTING  FOR  ANIMALS  OF  PAST  AGES   29 

The  older  fossils  are  countless  millions  of  years 
old  and  numbers  of  fossils  for  each  of  the  past 
ages  have  been  found. 

There  are  hundreds  of  fossil  beds  on  earth. 
There  are  dozens  in  Oregon,  and,  I  think,  one 
at  least  in  each  state  in  the  Union.  Fossil  horses 
are  found  in  perhaps  eight  or  ten  of  the  western 
states. 

In  the  wall  near  the  bottom  of  the  dry  canon 
which  we  visited  the  scientist  showed  me  a  small, 
filled-in  gully.  This  gully  had  been  made  in  an 
old  surface  by  running  water  ages  ago.  This 
present  cover  of  ashes  fell  and  filled  it.  He  said 
there  are  hundreds  of  these  filled-in  or  buried 
gullies  and  canons. 

We  did  not  find  a  single  fossil.  But  he  said 
that  the  canon  was  a  promising  one  to  prospect 
and  that  later  he  would  ask  me  to  show  it  to 
one  of  the  geologists.  On  the  way  back  to  camp 
we  saw  four  flocks  of  antelope  and  several  times 
during  the  day  we  saw  coyotes. 

That  evening  by  the  camp-fire  the  scientist 
said:  "During  my  absence  'to-day  someone 
brought  in  an  excellent  fossil  horse.  He  has 
three  toes  on  each  foot  with  the  middle  toe  most 
developed.  His  strange  teeth  are  for  the  eating 
of  twigs  and  bark;  grass  had  not  developed  when 
he  lived  on  earth.  If  fat  he  would  have  been 
the  size  of  a  small  sheep.  An  epoch  after  his 


30          WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

time,  in  what  is  called  the  Miocene,  grass  for 
the  first  time  grew  and  the  teeth  of  horses  later 
changed  to  grass-eating  teeth  such  as  horses  now 
have." 

That  evening  I  talked  about  prehistoric  horses 
with  one  of  the  geologists  until  everyone  else 
had  turned  in.  Then  early  the  following  morn- 
ing I  climbed  along  canon  walls  hoping  to  see  the 
fossil  of  a  tiny  Oligocene  horse  sticking  out  of 
the  rocks. 

The  oldest  discovered  fossil  of  the  horse  be- 
longs to  the  Eocene  Epoch,  perhaps  four  million 
years  ago.  He  is  known  as  Eohippus  or  Dawn 
Horse.  At  that  time  he  was  not  more  than  a  foot 
high,  had  four  toes  and  a  rudimentary  fifth  one 
on  each  foot.  Someone  wrote  of  him : 

Said  little  Eohippus, 

"I  am  going  to  be  a  horse, 
And  on  my  middle  finger-nail 

I'll  run  my  earthly  course." 

By  the  following  epoch,  the  Oligocene,  he  had 
grown  to  the  height  of  two  feet  and  had  reduced  the 
number  of  toes  to  three.  During  the  next  epoch, 
the  Miocene,  the  Great  Plains  region  of  the  West 
was  uplifted  and  became  a  vast,  grassy  prairie. 
The  horse,  evidently  benefited  by  grass,  changed 
and  developed  rapidly.  His  legs  lengthened,  he 
at  last  came  to  his  middle  finger-nail — one  toe; 


HUNTING  FOR  ANIMALS  OF  PAST  AGES   31 

his  brain  also  developed.  The  horse  is  a  story 
of  evolution — of  progressive  change.  The  horse, 
when  the  Ice  Age  appeared,  numbered  at  least 
ten  species,  one  of  which  was  larger  than  any 
present  horse.  Though  numbering  millions  the 
horse  completely  vanished  in  America  during  the 
Ice  Age.  No  one  has  yet  determined  the  cause 
of  the  extinction.  Our  American  horses  are  de- 
scendants of  the  Arabian  horses  brought  to  Mex- 
ico by  the  Spaniards. 

Though  I  had  many  a  happy  search  and  per- 
suaded the  men  to  examine  numerous  fossils  in 
steep-walled  cliffs,  a  little  Miohippus  was  not 
discovered.  The  cook  urged  me  to  buy  a  Shet- 
land, though  this  was  far  larger  than  Miohippus, 
as  he  thought  this  and  my  giant  razor-back 
would  make  a  good  start  for  a  circus  parade. 

One  day  I  found  promising  fossils  about 
ten  miles  from  camp,  but  it  was  so  far  away 
that  several  days  elapsed  before  the  scientist 
could  ride  over  to  examine.  One  morning  he 
and  two  geologists  took  tools  for  the  careful 
work  of  getting  the  fossil  out  of  its  place  in  solid 
though  not  hard  rock.  We  used  pick  and  shovel 
in  cleaning  off  the  rock  over  the  fossil  and  after 
this  the  geologists  used  chisels,  hammers,  and 
small  pointed  gouges  and  finally  awls  and  brushes. 
The  idea  was  to  free  the  fossil  without  cracking 
or  losing  any  of  it.  Often  days  are  required  in 


32  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

taking  small  fossils  from  hard  rock.  Two  days 
were  spent  in  getting  out  the  eleven  small  bones 
of  this  find. 

"The  boy  has  made  another  good  find  and 
if  he  continues  making  discoveries  he  will 
early  be  able  to  have  a  circus  parade  of  strange 
animals  which  the  cook  keeps  planning."  At 
this  point  a  dash  of  wind  filled  the  scientist's  face 
with  smoke  and  ashes  from  the  camp-fire. 

"Don't  let  that  specimen  be  lost  beneath  an- 
other ash  shower,"  called  the  cook. 

There  came  another  swirl  of  wind  throwing 
ashes,  shadows,  and  fire  light  against  the  standing 
spruces,  and  the  scientist  sat  down  but  continued 
with  "The  boy  has  found  a  prize  that  Barnum 
would  have  turned  into  a  fortune.  It  is  a  tiny 
camel1— about  three  feet  high." 

Amid  the  shouts  and  laughter  someone  called, 
"There  ain't  no  such  animal." 

"Camels,"  continued  the  scientist,  "origi- 
nated and  developed  in  America.  During  the 
Miocene  Epoch,  when  America,  Asia,  and  Europe 
were  broadly  connected  in  the  north  by  the  so- 
called  land  bridges,  thousands  of  camels  and 
horses  appear  to  have  become  travellers  and  mi- 
grated to  Europe  and  Asia  where  they  concluded 
to  stay.  While  the  camels  and  American  horses 
were  going  to  those  countries,  America  was  re- 
ceiving the  rhinoceros  and  numbers  of  other 


HUNTING  FOR  ANIMALS  OF  PAST  AGES   33 

species  of  mammal  immigrants.  My  boy,"  he 
said,  turning  to  me,  "if  you  will  keep  on  explor- 
ing you  will  find  hundreds  of  other  exciting  facts 
in  fossils,  both  afield  and  in  books." 

One  day  the  cook,  in  fishing  about  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  below  camp,  discovered  a  fossil  which 
turned  out  to  be  a  part  of  Miohippus,  the  little 
Oligocene  horse.  In  joking  him  concerning 
his  horse  he  offered  to  give  it  to  me  if  I  would 
find  a  Chalicothere.  He  suddenly  asked,  "What 
would  you  feed  a  Chalicothere?  Giraffe,  horse, 
or  bear  feed,  or  would  you  mix  these  and  make 
him  a  prehistoric  hash?" 

I  often  puzzled  over  how  it  was  possible  to 
tell  the  age  in  which  any  fossil  animal  had  lived. 
There  were  perhaps  one  hundred  past  ages  of 
prehistoric  life.  Fossils  of  animals  from  fifty 
thousand  years  ago  had  been  found,  and  fossils 
perhaps  millions  and  more  likely  a  billion  or  more 
years  old  had  been  discovered. 

One  evening  a  number  of  us  planned  to  get 
the  scientist  to  talk  at  the  camp-fire  about  fos- 
sils and  the  different  ages,  chiefly  for  the  benefit 
of  the  cook  and  myself. 

"Fossils,"  he  said,  "are  known  somewhat 
after  the  manner  of  clothes.  Each  year  or  pe- 
riod has  its  particular  cut.  Most  fossils  are 
found  in  sedimentary  rocks — limestones,  sand- 
stones, conglomerates,  and  schists.  During  the 


34  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

long  past  of  the  earth  the  wash  of  running  water 
— rivers — deposited  deltas  in  the  sea  and  in 
lakes  made  sedimentary  deposits.  The  delta 
material  changed  in  the  sea  to  rock.  These 
rocks,  if  placed  layer  or  strata  upon  one  another, 
would  be  forty  miles  thick.  The  lower  fifteen 
miles  were  deposited  before  any  life  was  upon 
the  earth.  These  lower  are  without  fossils. 
From,  say,  the  sixteenth  mile  to  the  top  where 
we  now  are,  there  are  fossils  in  each  layer.  Sup- 
pose we  divide  these  twenty-five  miles  of  layers 
into  one  hundred  stages  of  life.  The  bottom 
which  holds  the  few  oldest  fossils  we  will  num- 
ber One,  and  the  top  stage  where  we  are  we  will 
call  number  One  Hundred. 

"The  advanced  and  peculiar  stage  of  develop- 
ment shown  in  these  animals  of  the  Oligocene 
would,  I  think,  justify  their  having  number 
Ninety-five.  Untold  millions,  and  perhaps  bil- 
lions of  years  and  countless  influences  had  slowly 
shaped  them  into  what  they  were. 

"  There  were  but  few  kinds  of  fossils  in  the 
remote  times  of  number  One.  These  were  of 
small,  crude,  though  simple  pattern.  Having 
seen  one  of  this  pattern  it  would  never  be  con- 
fused with  the  pattern  or  model  of  number  Ten 
or  some  later  times.  In  a  way  the  fossil  model 
of  each  age  is  as  distinct  and  peculiar  as  that 
living  fossil  the  Australian  duck-bill.  The  dis- 


HUNTING  FOR  ANIMALS  OF  PAST  AGES    35 

tinct  lines  of  the  models  of  each  age  clearly  fix  it, 
with  those  who  know  fossils,  as  belonging  to  a 
definite  age,  even  though  not  branded  with  the 
number  of  that  age. 

"In  number  Two  layer  the  fossils  show  an 
increase  in  number  and  an  improvement  in 
pattern.  With  a  little  study  one  would  re- 
member where  these  peculiar  fellows  belong, 
even  though  number  Two  is  not  branded  on 
them. 

"Numbers  of  animals  died  before  the  close  of 
the  age  in  which  they  appeared.  Those  that 
through  their  descendants  lived  on  into  the  next 
age  showed  evolutionary  change — improvement 
— over  original  appearance.  Occasionally,  too, 
in  a  layer  was  an  entirely  new  fossil.  By  the 
time  layer  number  Fifty  is  reached  the  fossils 
show  multiplied  kinds  and  marked  improvements 
in  every  vital  point  and  have  a  much  better  ap- 
pearance than  those  in  numbers  One  and  Two." 

All  life  progressed  with  age.  And  as  one  ex- 
amines the  fossils  in  the  layers  closer  and  closer 
to  the  top,  the  fossil  life  shows  speedier  forms, 
better  teeth,  and  larger  brains.  In  the  layers  or 
ages  immediately  preceding  the  one  in  which  we 
live  many  kinds  of  life  have  the  form  of  to-day; 
and  other  kinds,  in  fact  nearly  all  the  birds, 
flowers,  and  animals,  have  long  been  nearly  as 
they  are  to-day. 


36  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Often  in  my  rambles  I  have  spent  a  day  or  sev- 
eral days  in  the  camp  of  fossil  hunters.  My  last 
experience  was  in  Texas  where  the  geologists 
were  digging  fossils  of  an  animal  that  had  been 
able  to  live  either  in  the  sea  or  on  the  land.  But 
I  ever  recall  with  satisfaction  the  scientist,  the 
cook,  and  five  other  real  men  who  made  life 
worth  living  while  we  searched  for  fossils  in  the 
canons  near  where  rolls  the  Oregon. 


CHAPTER  III 

CELEBRATING    GROUND-HOG   DAY 

A  BEAR'S  track  in  the  first  autumn  snow! 
This  was  a  sure  sign,  Old  Jim  said,  of  a 
mild  winter.  Yet  Old  Jim  had  just 
been  telling  me  that  all  the  signs  said  the  coming 
winter  was  to  be  a  cold,  snowy  one;  the  geese 
had  raced  south  early,  squirrels  had  been  gather- 
ing cones  late  into  the  night,  beaver  fur  was  the 
heaviest  ever  seen,  several  kinds  of  birds  would 
soon  be  wearing  feathers  enough  for  a  pillow — 
all  these  were  preparations  for  a  long  and  cold 
winter.  On  February  second  the  ground-hog 
was  sure  to  look  forth  on  snowy  distances,  see  his 
shadow,  and  then  retreat  to  the  bottom  of  his 
den,  for  winter  was  scheduled  to  last  still  six 
weeks  longer.  Off  I  went  to  try  to  discover 
if  other  bears  were  making  the  mistake  of  con- 
tradicting famous  weather  signs.  Either  this 
bear  did  not  know  what  he  was  about,  or  else  the 
hard  winter  signs  were  not  correct. 

Bears  hibernate  every  winter.  But  if  they  are 
still  about  and  making  tracks  in  the  first  snow 
this  is  a  certain  sign  that  winter  will  be  slow  in 

37 


38  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

arriving  and  that,  of  course,  they  will  be  in  no 
hurry  about  turning  in.  For  two  days  I  searched 
the  mountains  for  bear  tracks.  The  snow  was 
dotted  and  splashed  with  tracks — deer,  sheep, 
mice,  and  birds.  A  snowshoe  rabbit  made  a 
track  large  enough  for  a  lion;  while  a  cottontail 
and  a  magpie  left  record  of  their  misfortune,  each 
had  lost  a  foot.  Late  afternoon  of  the  second 
day  I  found  a  fresh  bear  track  and  on  the  way 
home  another — the  track  of  a  grizzly.  Now  a 
grizzly  is  one  of  the  wisest  fellows  in  the  woods, 
and  the  fact  that  he  had  not  heard  that  there 
was  to  be  a  long,  cold  winter  was  almost  enough 
to  cause  me  to  doubt  the  signs  said  to  have  been 
made  by  many  other  wild  people. 

Old  Jim  had  complete  confidence  in  the 
weather  wisdom  of  the  ground-hog,  as  did  every- 
one else  whom  I  had  ever  heard  mention  him, 
so  I  quietly  resolved  to  keep  track  of  his  doings 
and  to  pick  up  ground-hog  information  even 
though  I  neglected  a  number  of  good  books 
which  people  had  been  kind  enough  to  loan  me. 
The  ground-hog  weather  lore  says  that  on  Feb- 
ruary second  this  animal  wakes  from  his  hiber- 
nating sleep  and  comes  out  of  the  den.  If  he 
sees  his  shadow  on  the  snow  there  will  be  six 
weeks  more  of  winter;  if  he  does  not  see  his 
shadow  winter  is  practically  over. 

Every  near-by  ground-hog  den  was  located. 


CELEBRATING  GROUND-HOG  DAY        39 

Only  one  track  was  found.  Ground-hogs  com- 
monly are  hog  fat  by  late  August  and  den  up 
by  mid-September.  With  the  first  coloured  leaf 
that  autumn  flutters  they  make  haste  to  dig  a 
new,  clean  den  in  which  to  sleep  until  the  first 
flower  of  spring. 

In  looking  up  Ground-hog  Day  I  learned  that 
it  was  also  Candlemas  Day  and  read, 

Observe  which  way  the  hedgehog  builds  her  nest, 

If  by  some  secret  art  the  hedgehog  knows, 

So  long  before,  the  way  in  which  the  winds  will  blow, 

She  has  an  art  which  many  a  person  lacks 

That  thinks  himself  fit  to  make  our  almanacks. 

I  thought  that  Ground-hog  Day  would  never 
come.  Winter,  as  Old  Jim  had  said  it  would  be, 
had  been  cold  and  snowy.  If  the  ground-hog 
saw  his  shadow  February  second  he  would  return 
for  a  sleep  while  winter  lasted  six  weeks  longer. 
But  if  it  was  a  cloudy  day  spring  must  be 
near;  in  a  day  or  two  the  ground-hog  would  be 
hunting  for  the  sunny  side  of  a  cliff  to  find 
the  first  green  salad  on  which  to  break  his  long 
fast. 

February  second  I  was  out  before  daylight. 
But  the  morning  was  cloudy  and  unless  there 
was  a  clearing  the  ground-hog  could  not  see  his 
shadow.  The  predictions  for  six  weeks  more 
of  winter  might  be  overthrown,  that  is,  they 


40  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

might  be  if  the  ground-hog  sign  was  correct — 
and  everybody  had  said  it  was.  I  started  off 
as  soon  as  I  could  see.  There  were  fourteen 
ground-hog  dens  to  be  visited.  I  wanted  to 
know  if  ground-hogs  came  out  on  this  day  and 
if  they  did  I  wanted  to  see  at  least  one. 

The  first  animal  I  saw  was  a  rabbit.  He  sat 
up  straight,  in  fact  he  almost  stood  up.  When 
rabbits  sit  up  straight  it  is  a  sure  sign,  so  I  had 
heard,  of  cold  weather.  Surely  the  sky  would 
clear  so  that  the  ground-hogs  could  see  their 
shadows ! 

I  nearly  wore  out  a  pair  of  boots  rushing  from 
ground-hog  den  to  den.  Dark,  low-drifting 
clouds  filled  all  the  mountain  valley.  It  did 
not  look  hopeful  for  sunshine  and  ground-hog 
shadows.  But  shadow  or  no  shadow  I  wanted  to 
see  a  ground-hog  show  his  head  from  the  entrance 
to  his  den.  The  highest  den  visited  was  one  far 
up  the  mountain  side  which  I  hoped  might  be 
above  the  clouds  and  in  the  sunshine.  Its 
snow-filled  entrance  holes  showed  that  the 
weather-maker  had  not  even  looked  out.  Feb- 
ruary second  had  been  cloudy  from  morning  to 
night.  I  had  not  seen  a  ground-hog.  What 
would  the  remainder  of  the  winter  be?  That 
night  I  went  to  sleep  while  repeating: 

If  Candlemas  be  bright  and  clear 
We'll  have  two  winters  in  the  year. 


CELEBRATING  GROUND-HOG  DAY         41 

Winter  ended  early;  it  was  not  a  long  or  a 
severe  winter  after  all.  The  bear  was  correct, 
and  so,  too,  was  the  ground-hog;  that  is,  if  they 
had  anything  to  do  with  weather  predicting 
and  arranging.  But  the  birds,  squirrels,  and 
beavers  who  had  made  such  extensive  winter 
preparations  had  made  a  mistake.  But  did 
human  weather  prophets  understand  the  plans 
and  preparations  of  any  of  these  wild  people  ? 

Down  the  mountains  I  walked  fifteen  miles 
for  a  visit  with  another  boy.  We  talked  over 
weather  signs,  planned  to  meet  next  Ground- 
hog Day,  and  above  all  to  be  alert  and  learn 
all  we  could  about  the  ground-hog  and  other 
animal  ways. 

Squirrels  commenced  gathering  pine  cones  for 
winter  as  early  as  the  cones  were  ready — the  last 
week  in  July.  These  cones  were  piled  by  stumps, 
logs,  and  tree  roots  and  in  hollow  logs  in  small 
nests.  The  nests  or  little  holes  were  about  the 
size  of  a  robin's  nest  dug  into  the  leaf  and  trash 
coverings  of  the  forest  floor.  Each  nest  had 
from  five  to  ten  or  sometimes  twenty  cones,  and 
these  cones  were  never  more  than  two  deep. 
All  the  cone  piles  of  each  squirrel  were  within 
a  space  ten  feet  square  and  within  thirty  feet 
of  the  tree  in  which  the  squirrel  had  his  winter 
home. 

One  squirrel  had  stored  one  hundred  and  fifty- 


42  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

four  lodge-pole  pine  cones;  another,  one  hundred 
and  sixteen  yellow  pine  cones;  a  third,  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty-seven  spruce  cones;  and  still  an- 
other, more  than  four  hundred  assorted  pine  and 
spruce  cones.  Each  had  gathered  the  cones 
that  were  closest  to  his  home.  During  the  pre- 
ceding autumn  these  same  squirrels  had  gath- 
ered nearly  the  same  number  of  cones,  had 
stored  them  in  the  same  spaces  as  this  year, 
and  had  arranged  them  in  almost  the  same 
manner.  As  more  cones  were  gathered  each 
year  than  were  used  I  saw  no  way  safely  to 
predict  the  weather  from  information  which 
squirrel  harvests  furnished. 

One  afternoon  George  came  riding  up  on 
horseback.  He  left  his  pony  standing  and  hur- 
ried over  to  me  faster  than  I  was  rushing  to  meet 
him.  He  had  the  startling  news  that  a  big 
ground-hog  had  just  made  a  den  by  one  corner 
of  their  garden.  His  grandmother  was  certain 
that  this  was  a  sign  for  a  cold  winter.  Whenever 
animals  and  birds  come  to  live  close  to  your 
house  a  cold  winter  is  not  far  off.  This  was 
something  new  in  ground-hog  lore  and  I  heard 
it  with  startled  interest. 

I  could  not  just  make  out  if  there  might  be 
some  other  reason  for  the  ground-hog's  den  at 
that  place.  I  figured  that  this  must  be  a  wise 
ground-hog.  And  he  was.  Before  the  summer 


CELEBRATING  GROUND-HOG  DAY         43 

was  half  over  he  was  the  fattest  ground-hog  in 
the  region.  He  had  eaten  everything  in  that 
corner  of  the  garden  closest  to  him. 

During  the  summer  I  dug  into  a  number  of 
ground-hog  dens.  All  but  one  were  more  than 
four  feet  beneath  the  surface.  Each  den  was 
about  two  feet  across  and  more  than  a  foot  high. 
The  den  was  reached  by  one  or  more  tunnels  from 
the  surface.  Two  of  these  dens  reminded  me  of 
a  big,  four-legged  spider;  the  body  was  the  den 
and  each  leg  a  tunnel  to  a  different  place  in  the 
surface. 

In  digging  into  these  dens  I  must  have  moved 
tons  of  earth  and  rocks.  One  day  a  prospector 
asked  me  if  I  was  after  gold.  He  looked  at  a 
number  of  pieces  of  mineralized  quartz  which  I 
had  dug  out  and  told  me  of  an  experience  with 
ground-hogs.  He  had  found  a  mine  by  follow- 
ing up  a  piece  of  gold  quartz  which  a  ground- 
hog had  dug  out. 

When  I  asked  him  about  Ground-hog  Day  he 
laughed  and  said  that  it  was  a  superstition  based 
on  the  assumption  that  the  ground-hog  does 
come  out  of  his  den  February  second.  "But," 
he  said,  "there  is  not  a  record  that  he  comes 
out,  and  I  have  not  been  able  to  find  any  one 
who  has  seen  him  on  this  particular  day.  I 
have  repeatedly  watched  for  ground-hogs  Feb- 
ruary second,  but  without  seeing  them  or  finding 


44  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

any  record,  in  snow-filled  entrance  holes  to  their 
dens,  of  their  coming  out.  A  ground-hog,  a 
bear,  or  any  hibernating  animal  may  come  out 
on  this  day  or  any  day,  but  this  has  not  the 
slightest  influence  on  the  weather."  Before 
going  on  with  his  pack  burro  the  prospector  took 
a  piece  of  charcoal  and  on  the  white  bark  of  an 
aspen  showed  me  how  to  make  drawings  of  the 
dens  which  I  dug  into. 

Where  conditions — food  and  digging — are  fa- 
vourable there  sometimes  are  numbers  of  dens  in 
a  comparatively  small  area.  Conditions  must 
be  favourable  for  the  making  of  a  den.  Often  the 
den  is  by  an  outcropping  rock  ledge,  preferably 
in  gravelly  soil.  Sometimes  along  the  side  of  a 
rock  and  in  fractures  of  it  there  is  opportunity  to 
dig  down.  Other  dens  are  by  and  beneath 
boulder  piles  or  beneath  the  roots  of  big  trees. 
In  any  case  the  ground-hog  desires  a  back- 
ground— some  place  where  he  can  lie  in  the  sun 
and  feel  secure. 

Ground-hogs  become  so  hog  fat  that  they  make 
a  comical  show  with  tail  flopping  as  they  go  on 
hasty,  short  gallops  for  the  den.  A  ground-hog 
has  a  heavy  body  and  short  legs  and  at  best  is  a 
low-geared  animal.  Having  enemies  he  gener- 
ally keeps  close  to  the  den. 

There  are  exceptional  cases  where  old  ground- 
hogs do  wander  far  away.  Two  summers  while 


CELEBRATING  GROUND-HOG  DAY        45 

I  was  guiding  on  Long's  Peak  a  ground-hog 
had  located  on  the  summit.  A  few  minutes  after 
I  arrived  on  top  with  a  party  of  climbers  he 
would  show  himself  and  wait  for  lunch  scraps. 
After  he  was  better  acquainted  he  did  not  wait 
but  expected  to  have  helpings  from  the  first 
table.  His  winter  den  was  two  thousand  feet 
below  the  top.  Ground-hogs,  especially  in 
spring,  search  for  the  first  green  plants;  judging 
from  their  tracks,  they  know  just  where  these 
are  most  likely  to  be  found. 

I  tried  to  weigh  a  big  ground-hog  near  my  cabin. 
While  he  was  out  I  plugged  entrance  holes  then  got 
him  into  a  sack.  He  was  a  fat  pig  and  weighed 
I  know  not  how  much  more  than  the  twenty-four- 
pound  limit  of  the  scales.  He  was  yellow-brown 
over  back  and  sides  with  an  orange-coloured 
belly,  cheeks  nearly  white,  paws  black,  and 
forehead  nearly  black,  his  ten-inch  tail  covered 
with  hair  from  four  to  six  inches  long.  This  tail 
was  like  a  big  dust-brush.  This  fellow  and  num- 
bers of  others  became  half  tame  and  would  come 
close  for  turnips  and  other  things  which  I  car- 
ried to  them. 

Many  times  I  have  seen  four  youngsters 
around  a  den.  Often  they  were  asleep  in  the  sun, 
and  other  times  chasing  one  another  around  a 
stump  or  having  a  game  of  tag  over  the  rocks. 
Several  times  in  August  I  found  young  hogs 


46  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

alone  each  digging  a  den  for  himself.  I  do  not 
know  if  they  left  home,  or  if  mother  sent  them 
away. 

The  ground-hog  hibernates,  but  the  prairie- 
dog,  closely  related  to  him,  usually  does  not.  In 
watching  the  ground-hog  one  day  I  noticed 
that  two  kinds  of  chipmunks  hibernated  and 
that  bumblebees  were  also  hibernaters.  It  was 
fun  to  examine  a  nest  in  which  the  bees  were 
having  a  peace  sleep  with  stings  not  working. 
There  was  no  need  of  a  fellow  running  and  strik- 
ing after  making  a  friendly  call,  which  bees  so 
often  pretend  to  understand  is  not  friendly. 

Ground-hogs  are  found  in  a  majority  of  states 
in  the  Union.  They  are  also  called  wood-chuck, 
rock-chuck,  chucker,  and  marmot.  If  their 
home  is  close  to  a  garden  or  a  grain  field  they 
are  likely  to  be  unpopular  with  the  owner  be- 
cause of  too  many  raids  on  those  things  which 
the  owner  wants  for  himself.  They  are  some- 
times dug  out  by  wolves,  foxes,  and  even  by 
bears.  I  often  wondered  how  all  this  weather 
lore  was  given  to  the  ground-hog. 

The  second  autumn  I  still  half  believed  in  signs 
and  wandered  looking  for  bear  tracks  and  every- 
thing that  was  supposed  to  reveal  advance 
weather  secrets.  A  number  of  hunters  and  trap- 
pers and  also  other  people  were  asked  how  to 
tell  for  certain  that  birds  and  beavers  were 


CELEBRATING  GROUND-HOG  DAY         47 

wearing  thicker  or  thinner  coats  than  usual;  but 
no  one  appeared  to  know  any  certain  way. 

I  dropped  these  signs  and  investigated  beaver 
colonies.  One  beaver  colony  began  work  extra 
early,  but  as  they  were  building  a  new  house 
they  naturally  began  work  earlier  than  other 
colonies.  One  colony  cut  and  piled  in  the  pond 
two  hundred  and  ninety-three  aspens  for  winter 
food;  another  colony,  just  one  minute's  walk  up 
stream,  harvested  only  sixty-eight.  The  dams 
that  were  repaired  appeared  to  need  repairs; 
those  not  touched  did  not  need  attention.  In 
trying  to  see  how  to  predict  weather  from  beaver 
work  I  got  a  headache.  Each  beaver  colony  ap- 
peared to  have  its  own  way  of  doing  things  or  else 
each  was  doing  what  it  needed  to  do.  The  big 
harvest  may  have  been  for  a  colony  with  many 
beavers  and  the  small  harvest  for  a  few  beavers. 
I  do  not  believe  the  beavers  did  any  guessing 
about  the  winter.  They  were  prepared  for  any 
weather.  The  beaver  is  an  animal  with  un- 
usually interesting  ways.  Many  of  his  customs 
are  not  well  known.  It  is  said  that  if  he  lays  up 
more  supplies  than  usual,  or  grows  thicker  fur 
than  usual,  the  winter  will  be  colder  than 
usual.  But  any  boy  who  has  had  the  fun  of 
watching  a  beaver  colony  in  autumn  will  realize 
that  the  beaver  prepares  at  the  beginning  of 
autumn  for  a  real  winter  every  year. 


48  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Most  ground-hogs  were  not  seen  after  early 
September.  Many  of  those  around  me  dug  a 
new  den.  A  number  who  had  summer  dens  out 
in  the  meadow  by  rock  piles  moved  back  into  the 
woods.  The  entrance  ways  to  dens  in  which 
hogs  were  hibernating  appeared  to  be  partly 
plugged  a  foot  or  two  beneath  the  surface. 
There  was  no  plan  that  I  could  see  for  coming 
out  on  Ground-hog  Day.  Each  winter  den  ex- 
amined had  a  short  tunnel  which  led  off  into  the 
gravel  and  in  the  end  of  this  tunnel  there  was 
buried  excrement.  Evidently  when  a  wood- 
chuck  enters  his  den  for  the  winter  he  plans  to 
stay  inside  until  spring. 

Two  nights  in  advance  of  Ground-hog  Day 
I  arrived  down  the  mountain  at  the  home  of  my 
friend  George.  I  wanted  to  be  on  time.  George 
was  still  strong  for  signs  and  all  this  mysterious 
weather  lore.  After  I  had  related  a  number  of 
my  observations  and  facts  I  had  read  or  heard,  he 
continued  to  believe  but  he  wanted  to  see  what 
might  be  discovered. 

Ground-hog  morning  was  absolutely  clear. 
There  was  five  inches  of  snow;  we  wanted  snow 
because  there  was  a  dispute  among  the  prophets 
as  to  whether  the  shadow  of  the  ground-hog 
would  count  if  not  seen  on  the  snow.  We  were 
two  miles  from  the  house  when  the  sun  came  up. 
We  wondered  if  ground-hogs  were  early  risers 


CELEBRATING  GROUND-HOG  DAY        49 

as  we  shivered  nearly  frozen  in  a  place  where  we 
were  close  to  three  dens.  Nothing  showed  up, 
so  we  moved  on.  These  entrance-ways  to  the 
dens  were  partly  full  of  untracked  snow.  We 
planned  to  return  later  in  the  day  and  see  if  any- 
thing had  made  a  footprint  in  the  snow. 

Hours  were  spent  crawling  and  looking.  Not 
a  ground-hog  nor  even  little  pig  children  were 
seen.  In  going  across  an  opening  we  saw  a  line 
of  tracks  reaching  from  a  den  into  the  woods. 
While  I  was  looking  into  the  woods  George, 
all  excitement,  grabbed  my  arm  and  pointed  at 
a  brown  head  poked  forth  from  the  hole  and 
making  a  shadow  on  the  snow. 

Then  this  shadow  maker  climbed  out  and  hur- 
ried off  in  a  crippling  gallop.  It  was  a  three- 
legged  coyote.  When  one  goes  out  looking  for 
something  he  is  certain  to  see  something  of  in- 
terest even  though  this  is  not  a  ground-hog 
shadow  on  the  snow.  Two  of  the  surprises  I 
had  in  wandering  the  wilds  hunting  with  a  kodak 
were  that  frequently  animals  are  crippled  and 
that  they  so  often  play. 

Late  afternoon  we  returned  to  the  first  dens 
watched  in  the  morning.  The  snow  in  the  en- 
trance-ways was  still  untracked.  Our  shadows 
showed  upon  the  snow — where  ground-hog  had 
not  shadowed.  But  the  shadow  of  a  big  peak  to 
the  west  would  soon  slip  across  the  den  and  it 


50  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

would  then  be  too  late  this  year  for  a  ground- 
hog shadow  to  produce  six  weeks  of  snow  and 
cold.  We  had  almost  lost  faith  in  all  forecasting 
weather  signs.  What  was  the  use  bothering 
about  signs  that  at  best  did  not  agree?  We 
could  not  change  the  oncoming  weather,  and 
we  could  have  fun  outdoors  in  all  kinds  of 
weather. 

We  started  for  the  house  and  on  the  way  we 
talked  about  a  number  of  catchy  but  unreliable 
weather  signs — signs  that  we  knew  had  not  made 
good  in  the  mountains.  Among  these  were : 

Rainbow  in  the  morning, 
The  sailor  takes  warning. 
Rainbow  at  night 
The  sailor's  delight. 

If  March  come  in  like  a  lion  it  will  go  out 
like  a  lamb.  If  it  come  in  like  a  lamb  it  will 
go  out  like  a  lion. 

Cold  weather  comes  quickly  and  warm  weather 
comes  slowly. 

George  said  that  he  remembered  once  when  a 
hot  day  had  come  quickly  in  winter.  One  cold 
morning  he  went  out  for  a  look  at  the  thermom- 
eter before  breakfast.  It  was  twelve  below  zero. 
But  he  could  hear  a  wind-storm  coming  out  of 


CELEBRATING  GROUND-HOG  DAY         51 

the  west.  It  was  the  Chinook  wind — a  warm, 
dry  wind  which  melts  snow  quickly  and  carries 
the  moisture  off  on  the  wind  without  ever  wetting 
the  earth.  The  Indians  call  it  the  "snow  eater." 
George  had  breakfast  and  did  a  few  chores,  then 
had  another  look  at  the  thermometer.  It  was 
up  to  forty-one  and  the  snow  was  rapidly  melt- 
ing. 

I  then  told  him  of  a  night  I  had  had  camping  out 
in  an  old  cabin.  I  was  cold  in  my  sleeping  bag  in 
the  early  evening.  During  the  night  I  had  got  so 
warm  that  I  thought  the  cabin  was  on  fire.  But  it 
was  just  a  Chinook.  At  five  o'clock  in  the  eve- 
ning there  had  been  seven  inches  of  snow  over 
the  earth.  At  six  the  following  morning  it  was 
gone  and  the  ground  bare  and  dry. 

Near  the  house  George  and  I  were  overtaken 
by  a  man  on  horseback.  During  the  day's  ride 
he  had  seen  coyotes,  prairie  dogs,  deer,  and 
mountain  sheep;  but  not  a  ground-hog.  He  had 
ridden  up  from  the  plains  where  it  had  been 
snowing  all  day.  So  several  miles  away  the 
ground-hogs  could  not  see  their  shadow  while 
those  up  here  could  have  seen  theirs  if  they  had 
cared  to  look. 

What  kind  of  weather  would  we  have  during 
the  next  six  weeks  ?  Would  it  be  determined  by 
the  ground-hogs  of  the  plains  or  by  those  in  the 
mountains?  What  kind  of  weather  would 


52  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

result  if  there  was  sunshine  in  New  York  and 
cloudy  weather  in  Pennsylvania  on  the  same 
Ground-hog  Day?  If .  We  gave  it  up. 

The  ground-hog  in  common  with  other  ani- 
mals has  lived  upon  the  earth  for  countless  ages, 
perhaps  about  three  million  years,  so  geologists 
say.  Long  before  he  had  been  heard  of  there 
were  both  weather  and  climate  over  this  good  old 
world  of  ours.  There  had  been  Ice  Ages  and 
world-wide  climate  so  balmy  that  palm  trees 
had  grown  in  the  Far  North — not  far  from  the 
Pole. 

However,  there  are  a  few  weather  signs,  or 
more  correctly  indications,  that  are  closely  al- 
lied to  woodcraft.  Through  them  one  can  usu- 
ally tell  in  advance  when  there  is  to  be  a  change  in 
the  weather.  Among  these  indications  are  un- 
usual gatherings  of  birds,  listlessness  of  animals, 
smoke  drifting  down  and  around  as  though  lost, 
and  animals  showing  interest  in  a  particular  di- 
rection or  collecting  at  a  sheltered  place.  Often 
animals  realize  hours  in  advance  that  there  is 
to  be  a  change  in  the  weather.  Each  human  and 
animal  is  a  delicate  barometer  which  responds  to 
air  changes.  Animals  appear  particularly  sen- 
sitive and  responsive  to  these  changes. 

The  actions  of  mountain  sheep  have  several 
times  suggested  to  me  that  wind  or  snow-storm 
was  coming.  One  cold  morning  I  was  crossing 


Photo  by  Enos  A.  Mills 


Aspen   Beaver  cuttings 


CELEBRATING  GROUND-HOG  DAY         53 

the  Continental  Divide.  On  the  skyline  I  saw  a 
number  of  sheep  pointing  their  noses  into  the 
west.  Closer  to  me  another  flock  walked  directly 
to  the  plateau  rim  and  pointed  their  noses  into 
the  west.  There  I  left  them  standing.  Early 
the  following  morning  a  Chinook  came  roaring 
out  of  the  west.  Another  day  three  separate 
flocks  were  watching  the  northeast  sky.  Twenty- 
four  hours  later  a  blizzard  arrived  from  the 
northeast.  But  there  probably  isn't  anything 
in  the  make-up  of  animals  that  will  give  long- 
range  weather  information.  These  sheep  simply 
had  delicate  advance  wireless  messages  of  what 
already  was  coming. 

Just  as  George  and  I  were  parting  at  the  house 
something  stuck  its  brown  head  out  of  a  hole 
beneath  some  bushes,  then  ducked  back.  Both 
thought  it  was  a  rabbit  but  it  might  be  a  ground- 
hog. We  had  lost  faith  in  the  weather  business 
of  ground-hogs  but  if  one  was  loose  on  Ground- 
hog Day  we  wanted  to  be  sure  and  have  a  look 
at  him. 

We  made  haste  to  try  to  rout  the  fellow  out. 
George  was  prodding  away  at  a  lively  rate  in  one 
entrance  hole  with  a  long,  slender  pole,  while  I 
was  watching  the  other  entrance  and  trimming 
another  pole  with  which  to  explore  in  case  George 
failed  to  start  anything. 

"I'm   prodding   something,"   called   George, 


54  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

"it  feels  like  a  fat  pig."  He  pulled  out  the  pole 
and  looked  at  the  end  to  see  what  kind  of  hair 
might  be  sticking  to  it.  Then  he  went  to  poling 
again.  I  lay  down  with  my  ear  close  to  my  en- 
trance hole.  There  was  a  clawing  inside,  and 
excited,  I  called,  "He's  coming  out!" 

George  came  on  the  jump,  pole  in  hand,  to 
see  what  HE  was.  Out  rushed  a  badly  fright- 
ened rabbit.  It  never  occurred  to  us  that  there 
might  be  something  behind  this  rabbit  to  give 
him  such  a  fright.  Out  came  a  skunk!  He  was 
not  at  all  frightened;  but  we  were.  Our  poles 
fell  as  we  jumped  back.  These  fell  on  or  by  the 
skunk.  This  was  too  much.  A  "  polecat "  should 
never  be  pole-prodded.  We  moved  quickly,  but 
the  skunk  went  into  action  so  speedily  that  we 
were  shelled  with  skunk  gas. 


CHAPTER  IV 

PIRATES    IN   THE   MOUNTAINS 

K [TURNING  to  my  camp  after  rambling 
all  day  in  the  mountains  I  found  two 
men  pitching  a  tent  near  by.  They  were 
discussing  pirates  and  piracy.  We  were  in  an 
out-of-the-way  region  in  eastern  Kentucky.  A 
few  widely  scattered,  picturesque  characters 
were  the  only  settlers.  There  had  been  feuds, 
I  knew.  But  pirates!  Could  it  be  that  a  few 
had  left  the  sea  and  found  refuge  in  these  wild 
mountains  ? 

"Over  there,"  explained  one  man  to  the 
other,  "was  a  remarkable  case  of  piracy."  He 
pointed  to  the  wild  section  in  which  I  had  spent 
the  morning  alone.  I  postponed  supper  and 
stepped  over  to  hear  more  of  pirates. 

"Young  man,  these  mountains  are  infested 
with  pirates,"  said  the  geologist.  "To-morrow 
we  are  going  out  to  see  where  a  pirate  recently 
captured  and  beheaded  a  river.  Would  you 
like  to  go  along?"  I  would.  These  men  were 
out  studying  erosion,  geology,  adventures  of 
rivers  and  related  subjects.  During  the  evening 

55 


56  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

I  heard  that  in  other  mountain  regions  in  the 
United  States  pirates  might  still  be  seen. 

I  liked  the  names  that  this  geologist  used  that 
evening  in  describing  streams.  They  were  sci- 
entifically correct  names,  too.  He  spoke  of  a 
"young"  river  and  of  another  as  being  in  slow 
"old  age";  of  an  uplift  that  had  steepened  the 
grade  and  "revived"  an  old  river;  and  mentioned 
the  Potomac,  the  James,  and  other  rivers  as 
having  been  recently  "drowned" — an  extraor- 
dinary experience  for  a  river  I  thought — by 
the  seashore  sinking  and  permanently  lowering 
the  mouths  of  these  rivers  below  sea  level. 
There  was  no  end  of  discussion  about  streams 
eroding  headward,  cutting  their  way  through  a 
hill  or  even  a  mountain,  and  capturing  the  head 
of  the  stream  on  the  other  side.  A  river  that 
loses  its  head  is  "beheaded" — by  a  "pirate." 
Rivers  also  dig  in  and  entrench  themselves. 

Out  we  went  next  day,  and  the  geologist 
showed  me  where  a  pirate  river  had  sawed 
through  a  mountain  and  come  out  almost  under- 
neath the  stream  on  the  other  side.  This  be- 
headed stream  on  the  other  side  poured  down 
into  the  new  channel.  Then  we  went  to  see 
where  a  pirate  had  recently  captured  an  old 
pirate — who  had  a  record  of  three  beheadings. 

A  stream  flowing  down  a  hillside  cuts  a  chan- 
nel headward  just  as  a  saw  cuts  into  a  log.  A 


PIRATES  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS  57 

river  is  a  liquid  saw.  The  water  is  toothed 
with  sharp  sand  and  gravel  and  thus  edged  will 
saw  its  way  into  hard  rock;  and  saw  rapidly  if 
the  rock  is  not  hard.  If  there  is  an  uplift  the 
steepened  stream  will  cut  more  rapidly;  if  the 
land  sinks  and  leaves  the  river  with  less  grade  it 
will  cut  less  rapidly.  The  steeper  the  flow  the 
larger  and  the  more  numerous  the  sharp-edged 
rocks — cutting  tools — the  water  carries  and  thus 
the  more  rapidly  it  cuts.  The  stream  that  cap- 
tures another  must  dig  a  deeper,  lower  channel 
than  the  one  captured  for  the  latter  to  pour  into. 
"Many  a  mountain  river  is  older  than  the 
land  around  it,"  was  one  of  the  most  interesting 
things  that  the  geologist  said.  "  It  was  there  first, 
was  in  place  when  the  present  mountains  began  to 
be  uplifted.  Rivers  have  worn  down  and  washed 
away  two  or  more  mountain  ranges  without 
losing  their  place.  Every  river  is  likely  to  have 
a  long  life  with  adventures  all  the  year  round. 
A  mountain  sometimes  rises  beneath  a  river, 
lifting  the  river  up  with  it.  Mountains  have  risen 
right  across  the  channel  of  a  river.  The  river 
generally  cuts  through.  A  mountain  rises  slowly, 
while  a  river  cuts  or  erodes  rapidly.  It  is  an  ex- 
pert in  cutting  through  rock  ledges.  If  the  moun- 
tain rises  a  thousand  feet  the  river  cuts  a  canon 
a  thousand  feet  deep.  Generally  by  the  time  the 
mountain  is  uplifted  the  river  has  severed  it." 


58  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Often  a  stream  cuts  or  works  along  behind  a 
rocky  ridge  as  though  keeping  out  of  sight  while 
hunting  for  an  easy  way  through  the  hill.  Many 
a  time  it  does  find  a  break  and  speedily  cuts 
through. 

I  told  the  geologist  I  had  been  among  the 
seven  hills  of  Rome.  He  said  these  were  of 
one  watershed  which  had  been  cut  in  pieces  by 
streams.  He  did  not  recall  any  piracy  there. 
After  a  long  day  with  him  I  crossed  over  into 
Virginia  to  have  a  look  at  a  few  water  gaps. 

Stream  piracy  is  common.  Only  a  few  miles 
from  my  home  a  pirate  did  recent  beheading. 
In  several  places  I  have  seen  where  only  a  thin 
ridge  separated  the  heads  of  two  streams  and 
each  was  digging  away  after  the  other  with  all 
its  might.  In  rambling  over  the  country  I  have 
frequently  found  that  the  present  drainage  sys- 
tem has  largely  been  made  by  piracy  of  the  past. 
Many  of  the  big  rivers  of  to-day  have  grown 
large  by  having  been  pirate  river  robbers  in  their 
early  days.  In  camping  on  the  headwaters  of 
the  Delaware  and  the  Potomac  rivers  I  found 
unusually  interesting  cases  of  piracy  and  be- 
headings. Originally  these  rivers  were  wholly 
on  the  front  side  of  the  Appalachian  Mountains, 
but  they  found  breaks,  worked  through  and  on 
the  back  side  of  the  mountains,  and  captured 
the  headwaters  of  I  know  not  how  many  streams; 


PIRATES  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS  59 

their  headwaters  still  are  on  the  back  of  these 
mountains. 

The  mighty  Tennessee  River  is  made  up  of  the 
volume  of  three  or  more  beheaded  rivers.  In 
recent  geological  times  there  were  upheavals 
and  subsidences  of  the  earth  in  the  mountains  of 
the  South,  and  streams  seem  to  have  dug  to  right 
and  left  and  worked  headward  at  a  lively  rate. 
In  the  river  feud  the  Tennessee  seems  to  have 
been  the  most  successful  one.  Eastern  Ken- 
tucky and  Tennessee,  western  Virginia,  West 
Virginia,  and  other  states  have  many  water  gaps 
— former  channels  of  streams  which  lost  their 
heads  and  left  these  canons  without  water. 

Cumberland  Gap,  Virginia,  has  a  good  geo- 
logical background  and  the  story  of  river  piracy 
in  its  history.  It  is  a  useful  and  much-used 
thoroughfare  through  a  long  and  formidable 
mountain  barrier.  I  suppose  the  deer,  the  black 
bears,  and  the  Indians  had  trails  through  it  long 
before  the  white  man  came  to  this  continent. 

The  orator,  Henry  Clay,  a  man  of  vision, 
visited  it  that  he  might  better  give  to  his  imagi- 
nation pictures  of  the  long  and  unending  pro- 
cession that  was  flowing  through  it.  The  pass 
for  years  was  the  route  over  which  and  through 
which  the  pioneers,  trappers,  explorers,  and 
adventurers,  thousands  of  them,  flowed  into 
the  valleys  and  the  mountains  of  the  great  West. 


60  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

During  the  Civil  War  armies  sought  to  have 
and  to  hold  this  gap.  And  to-day  through  this 
pass  commerce  and  communication  flow  in  both 
directions.  It  will  endure  for  ages  unless  it  be 
uplifted  or  sunken  beyond  its  present  place;  and  so 
long  as  it  is  where  it  is  this  useful  open  way  will 
suggest  the  romantic  pirate  story  that  gave  it 
a  place  in  the  sun. 

I  camped  through  the  Yellowstone  in  1891  and 
was  out  with  a  geologist  who  showed  me  records 
of  pirates,  glaciers,  and  volcanoes.  The  Con- 
tinental Divide  in  Yellowstone  did  not  look  like 
I  thought  a  continental  divide  should.  It  was 
low,  nearly  flat,  mostly  smooth,  and  forest  cov- 
ered. I  crossed  it  several  times  without  knowing 
that  it  was  a  divide.  At  two  or  three  places 
there  are  "Two-Ocean  Ponds" — shallow,  water- 
filled  depressions,  each  with  two  outlets,  the 
water  from  the  west  end  going  to  the  Pacific 
Ocean  and  that  from  the  east  to  the  Atlantic. 

The  Yellowstone  River  did  a  lively  piece  of 
piracy  in  capturing  not  a  river  but  Yellowstone 
Lake.  In  seizing  the  water  of  this  lake  the 
Yellowstone  River  cut  through  a  rhyolite  plateau 
and  formed  the  glorious  Yellowstone  canon. 
This  brilliantly  coloured  canon  has  in  it  one  of 
the  wildest  of  waterfalls.  The  Indians  called 
this  country  the  Top  of  the  World.  Yellowstone 
Lake,  at  an  altitude  of  about  7,800  feet,  is  some- 


PIRATES  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS  61 

thing  like  one  hundred  miles  around  and  is  said 
to  be  the  largest  lake  in  the  world  at  so  high  an  al- 
titude. In  capturing  the  lake,  Yellowstone 
River,  pirate  thereby,  captured  all  the  streams 
emptying  into  the  lake.  This  made  a  new 
geography  lesson  and  an  interesting  pirate  story. 
The  waters  of  Yellowstone  Lake  before  capture 
flowed  through  the  Snake  River  to  the  Pacific, 
but  now  they  go  down  the  Yellowstone-Missouri- 
Mississippi  to  the  Atlantic. 

A  Chilean  river  on  the  Pacific  slope  of  South 
America  worked  headward  and  sawed  through 
the  Continental  Divide.  It  beheaded  a  stream 
on  the  Atlantic  slope  and  diverted  its  waters 
from  the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific.  This  nearly 
caused  war  between  the  Argentine  Republic  and 
Chili.  The  original  Continental  Divide  was 
the  boundary  line  between  these  nations,  and 
this  piece  of  piracy  moved  the  boundary  line 
and  threw  these  two  powers  into  angry  confusion. 
After  much  searching  and  surveying  the  Conti- 
nental Divide  was  found  and  a  new  boundary 
agreed  upon.  But  in  all  probability  this,  too, 
will  be  moved,  for  rivers  have  never  paid  any 
attention  to  a  divide  or  a  national  boundary  line. 

Thousands  of  hills  have  been  entirely  washed 
away  by  rivers,  others  have  been  partly  removed, 
and  many  streams  are  to-day  cutting  away  at 
watersheds  and  mountains.  In  many  states  of 


62  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

the  Union  the  state  geologist  may  be  able  to 
tell  in  what  region  to  look  for  pirates. 

In  placer  and  hydraulic  mining  enormous 
sections  are  washed  from  the  mountain  sides. 
This  is  done  both  by  turning  the  high-pressure 
water  from  hoses  against  the  earth  and  by  carry- 
ing a  quantity  of  water  along  ditch  and  flume, 
then  flooding.  This  uncovers  gold.  But  so 
enormous  is  the  quantity  of  wreckage  gravel  and 
sand  washed  into  stream  channels  that  a  number 
of  states  have  laws  on  their  statute  books  to 
regulate  this  kind  of  mining. 

That  pirate  rivers  and  all  other  rivers  were 
washing  off  the  surface  of  the  earth  and  carrying 
it  away  to  the  sea  seems  not  until  this  time  to 
have  interested  me. 

But  one  evening  while  boating  down  the  Mis- 
souri River  the  splash  from  a  bank  cave-in  upset 
my  boat  and  I  took  dry  clothes  and  supper  with  a 
family  who  lived  near  by  on  the  river  side.  I 
told  the  boy  at  this  place  that  the  Missouri  had 
been  a  pirate.  He  was  all  excited,  while  I  went 
on  to  say  that  most  of  the  rain  which  falls  on  land 
runs  back  into  the  ocean  through  rivers.  Here 
the  water  evaporates,  forms  clouds  which  sail 
back  over  the  land  as  airships  and  pour  down  the 
rain  so  frequently  that  the  rivers  are  kept  going 
day  and  night. 

Robert — Robert    Peters — was   older   than   I. 


PIRATES  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS  63 

He  said  that  the  Missouri  River  appeared  to  be 
made  up  more  of  mud  than  water,  and  he 
thought  it  was  a  pirate  not  because  it  really 
wanted  more  water  but  land,  more  mud  and  sand. 
It  captured  other  rivers  incidentally  in  its  hasty 
digging  out  and  washing  away  of  the  country- 
side. 

"Water  and  land  are  always  fighting,"  he 
went  on  to  say.  "You  can  see  this  at  the  sea- 
shore. Each  is  ever  trying  for  the  area  of  the 
other.  The  sea  would  hardly  be  sending  water 
up  in  the  air  and  across  country  in  cloud  ships, 
then  back  to  the  sea  in  rivers  just  for  the  fun  of 
it.  What  it  is  up  to  is  to  wash  the  land  away. 
The  more  land  that  washes  into  the  sea  the 
higher  and  wider  the  sea  becomes.  I  was  read- 
ing last  winter  that  the  sea  occupies  seventy-one 
per  cent,  of  the  earth's  surface  and  land  only 
twenty-nine  per  cent,  and  that  if  all  the  land 
surface  above  sea  level  were  washed  into  the  sea 
and  spread  over  the  bottom  it  would  raise  the 
water,  fill  in,  only  seven  hundred  feet." 

In  thinking  over  what  he  said  I  felt  that  he 
was  correct.  Just  what  Big  Water,  which  the 
Indians  called  the  sea,  was  thinking  about  is  a 
guess.  Anyway,  rivers  are  all  the  time  washing 
all  land  surface  down  into  the  sea.  Someone 
has  said  that  the  Missouri  River  is  too  thin  for 
cultivation  and  too  thick  for  navigation.  One 


64  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS       . 

of  its  nicknames  is  "Old  Muddy."  It  is  so 
charged  with  liquid  mud  that  it  gives  colour  to 
the  Mississippi  after  joining  forces  with  it  at 
St.  Louis.  Most  months  of  the  year  the  lower 
thousand  miles  of  the  Missouri-Mississippi  chan- 
nel are  badly  clogged  with  sand  bars  made  up  of 
stuff  washed  off  mountains,  plains,  and  the 
river  banks.  The  water  carries  more  than  a 
pint  of  mud  sediment  to  each  gallon. 

In  going  through  a  rapid  in  the  Grand  Canon 
of  the  Colorado  my  boat  struck  a  rock  and 
turned  turtle.  So  did  I,  more  than  I  wanted. 
There  are  two  or  more  pounds  of  sediment  in 
each  gallon  of  the  Colorado  River  and  my 
clothes  seemed  to  take  on  many  pounds  of  this 
in  addition  to  the  usual  quantity  of  water 
which  is  taken  up  when  one  tumbles  in  with 
clothes  on.  I  was  lucky  to  strike  shallow  water, 
for,  although  I  could  swim,  I  could  hardly  keep 
my  nose  above  the  surface  because  of  the  weight 
of  sediment. 

The  Grand  Canon  of  the  Colorado  is  from  six 
to  twelve  miles  across  and  in  places  a  mile  deep. 
All  this  vast  canon  was  washed  out  by  running 
water.  And  much  other  sediment  was  washed 
through  it.  The  mud  which  I  scraped  from  my 
clothes  was  in  part  from  off  plateaus  and  peaks 
hundreds  of  miles  upstream. 

Climbing  upon  a  boulder  I  took  off  my  clothes 


PIRATES  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS  65 

and  scraped  and  scraped  them.  Each  pocket 
was  full  of  wet  rock  flour.  Inside,  between  my 
underwear  and  my  skin,  must  have  been  two  or 
three  inches  of  mud.  If  this  had  hardened  I 
would  have  been  in  a  plaster  cast.  I  kept 
scraping  and  cleaning  off  this  mud.  It  would 
have  been  useless  to  put  my  clothes  in  the  mud- 
filled  water.  When  I  was  through  I  had  a  de- 
posit of  mud,  that  is  soil,  which  would  have  grown 
a  square  yard  of  wheat. 

Soil,  after  all,  is  mostly  rocks  ground  fine — 
rock  flour — mixed  with  minerals  and  chemicals. 
At  one  time  the  earth  was  solid  rock,  and  soil  was 
formed  by  water  washing,  freezing,  and  acids 
breaking  and  cutting  the  rocks  to  fineness. 

Rivers  not  only  wear  out  their  channels  but 
they  wear  off  less  rapidly  all  the  land  surface 
between  each  two  rivers.  This  means  that  every 
bit  of  land  on  earth  is  washed  and  worn  down  by 
running  water,  rain  from  the  clouds. 

If  Robert  was  right,  and  I  believe  he  was,  then 
every  stream  is  something  of  a  land  pirate  and 
is  at  all  times  grabbing  pieces  of  the  earth  and 
sending  them  away  to  the  sea.  Every  drop  of 
water  is  a  little  pirate.  It  picks  up  a  little  grain 
of  sand  and  away  it  goes  for  the  sea.  It  travels 
day  and  night.  It  goes  swiftly  and  goes  slowly; 
it  runs  against  boulders,  snags,  and  has  a  merry- 
go-round  in  whirlpools.  But  it  keeps  going. 


66  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

In  places  it  goes  over  a  waterfall.  This  may 
break  its  hold  upon  its  grain  of  sand.  But 
there  are  millions  of  grains  in  the  water  and  if  it 
does  not  see  the  right  one  it  seizes  another  and 
downstream  it  goes,  headed  for  the  sea.  I  do  not 
know  how  long  it  takes  to  travel  a  thousand  miles 
along  a  big  river,  or  how  long  from  the  source  of 
the  Mississippi  to  the  sea,  a  few  years  probably. 

But  many  grains  of  sand  may  be  rushed  along 
faster  than  others.  Many  lodge  upon  a  sand 
bar  where,  like  a  stranded  boat,  they  may  wait 
for  weeks  for  a  high  water.  They  may  wash 
upon  the  bank  during  a  flood  and  there  remain 
high  and  dry  for  years.  But  sometime  they  will 
reach  the  sea. 

This  water-washed  sediment  fills  thousands  of 
beaver  ponds.  The  beavers  dredge  quantities 
of  it  out  and  throw  it  over  the  dam;  they  raise 
the  dam  higher  so  as  to  keep  water  above  the 
sediment,  but  the  sediment  finally  wins  and  fills 
the  pond.  It  may  take  five  years  or  fifty. 

Grass  and  willows  grow  in  the  mud  as  soon  as 
sediment  forces  all  the  water  out  of  the  pond. 
Many  times  I  have  examined  the  earth  in  my  I 
camp  by  a  stream.     Often  there  were  spruces  or  | 
pines  more  than  two  hundred  years  of  age  grow- 
ing in  this  earth.     Digging  into  it  I  have  many 
times  found  it  to  be  a  filled-in  beaver  pond.     So 
here  in  the  grass  and  willows  among  the  trees, 


PIRATES  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS  67 

rabbits  and  bears  may  play  above  the  soil 
washed  down  by  water.  But  a  forest  fire  may 
come  and  consume  the  forest,  then  wind  or 
water  may  start  washing  and  blowing  and  this 
sediment  from  mountain  tops,  perhaps  hundreds 
of  miles  upstream,  may,  after  this  pleasant  stop, 
again  go  away  on  its  merry  journey  toward  the 
sea. 

Every  year  the  land  surface  all  over  the  earth 
is  lowered  just  a  little  by  the  wash  of  water. 
But  during  long  ages  this  lowering  makes  a  show- 
ing. Many  a  mountain  has  been  entirely 
washed  away  into  the  sea.  The  Appalachian 
Mountains  have  had  about  two  miles  washed  off 
them.  They  are  about  one  third  their  former 
height. 

The  wonderful  petrified  forests  in  both  the 
Yellowstone  and  in  Arizona  have  been  uncovered 
by  the  washing  of  water.  They  may  have  been 
covered  with  several  thousand  feet  of  ashes  or 
other  material  that  became  rock.  But  water 
cut  through  it  all,  washing  it  slowly  away.  Of 
course  the  water  often  uncovers  coal,  gold, 
and  strange  buried  fossils — records  of  animals 
that  lived  possibly  a  million  years  ago. 

In  the  sediment  that  finally  reaches  the  sea 
at  the  mouth  of  a  river,  say  the  Mississippi,  there 
is  a  little  of  most  everything:  crushed-up  fossils, 
marble,  gold,  coal,  blue  limestone  from  Kansas, 


68 


WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 


gray  granite  from  Pike's  Peak,  yellow  lava  from 
Yellowstone,  red  sandstone  from  many  states, 
and  glaciated  gravel  from  Canada.     Then  there 
are  volcanic  dust,  shells  of  water  life,  and  the 
bones  of  animals.     Along  with  these  in  solutioi 
the  water  also  carries  minerals  and  acids,  lime, 
salt,  and  soda.     The  caves  of  Kentucky  wen 
made  by  water  dissolving  and  washing  away  th< 
lime.     Altogether  millions   of  tons    each    yeai 
are   carried   into   the   sea   by  the   Mississippi, 
There  are  dozens  of  other  large  rivers  each  carry- 
ing  its   burdens   into   the   sea.     Probably   the 
rivers  of  the  world  move  as  much  freight  eacl 
day  in  the  way  of  washed  material  as  all  th< 
railroads  move  of  their  kind  of  freight. 

Big  deltas  of  this  sediment  form  at  the  moutl 
of  most  rivers.  No  deltas  are  found  at  the  moutl 
of  the  mighty  Amazon  or  the  mouth  of  th< 
Thames  River.  Here  the  swift  ocean  current! 
sweep  the  material  away  and  scatter  it  over  th< 
bottom  of  the  sea.  Although  the  Hudson  an< 
the  Susquehanna  rivers  are  daily  emptyin] 
countless  tons  of  silt  and  sand  into  the  sea,  n< 
delta  shows.  The  mouths  of  these  rivers  wen 
recently  "drowned" — that  is,  deeply  sul 
merged,  by  the  sinking  of  the  earth  aroun< 
and  beneath  their  mouths.  The  water  at  theii 
mouths  is  at  present  too  deep  for  delta  materi; 
to  show,  but  deltas  are  building. 


Photo  by  Enos  A.  Mills 


The  shortest  day  of  the  year  in  the  Rocky  Mountains 


Photo  by  Enos  A.  Mills 

The  outlet  of  Fern  Lake,  Rocky  Mountain  National  Park 


PIRATES  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS  69 

The  delta  of  the  Yellow  River,  China,  is  said 
to  be  three  hundred  and  fifty  miles  across. 
The  delta  of  the  Ganges  is  about  the  size  of  the 
state  of  Pennsylvania.  The  delta  of  the  Mis- 
sissippi is  about  the  size  of  Florida,  but  no  one 
knows  how  deep.  At  New  Orleans,  which  is 
built  upon  the  older  part  of  the  delta,  a  log  was 
found  in  well  drilling  a  thousand  feet  beneath 
the  surface. 

One  mile  every  sixteen  years  is  the  rate  which 
the  Mississippi  is  building  out  the  delta — filling 
in  the  sea  with  the  wash  off  land.  The  city  of 
Adra  on  the  Po  River,  Italy,  now  is  fourteen 
miles  from  the  sea.  It  formerly  was  at  the 
mouth  of  the  river.  In  China  generations  ago 
the  city  of  Pu-tai  was  a  seaport  at  the  edge  of 
the  ocean,  but  running  water  has  built  a  large 
delta  beyond  it  and  now  it  is  forty-eight  miles 
from  the  sea.  These  deltas  sink  into  the  sea. 
Perhaps  it  is  their  own  weight  that  causes  this 
slow  sinking.  Beneath  the  sea,  time,  pressure, 
and  its  own  cement  change  delta  material  into 
stone. 


CHAPTER  V 

TRAVELLING   WITH   A   BEAVER 

ONE  summer  in  Montana  a  trapper  gave 
me  a  kitten  beaver.     He  was  a  cunning 
little  fellow  in  soft  brown  fur  with  an 
innocent  round  face.     He  had  a  plump  body  and 
a  tiny  flat  tail.     While  I  was  talking  with  the 
trapper  the  little  beaver  endeavoured  to  show  his 
accomplishments  by  methodically  cutting  down 
a  willow  tree  that  was  about  the  size  of  a  lead 
pencil. 

I  was  out  with  a  pack  horse,  tracing  the  old 
Lewis  and  Clark  trail  across  the  mountains, 
and  took  him  with  me.  My  bedding  and  sup- 
plies did  not  make  large  packs.  With  one  of 
these  on  each  side  of  the  pack  saddle  there  re- 
mained room  enough  in  the  depression  on  top 
for  the  little  beaver.  He  was  bundled  in  my  old 
coat  with  his  head  sticking  out  of  one  sleeve. 
He  could  not  quite  fall  out  of  the  sleeve  and  the 
coat  was  secured  beneath  the  ropes  of  the  pack. 
Although  the  pack  horse  plodded  along  monoto- 
nously I  never  knew  of  his  sleeping;  but  he 
may  have  done  so.  Generally  when  the  horse 

70 


TRAVELLING  WITH  A  BEAVER  71 

stopped  he  rose  up  as  high  as  he  could  and  looked 
around.  Sometimes  he  protested.  This  was 
when  the  horse  strayed  away  from  me  and  went 
beneath  low  limbs  or  entangled  willows. 

Each  morning  as  soon  as  I  brought  the  pony 
he  came  close  and  watched  the  proceedings. 
Long  before  I  was  ready  to  lift  him  on  the  pack 
he  rose  on  hind  legs,  stretched  himself  to  full 
height,  clawed  the  air  rapidly  with  uplifted 
forepaws,  grunted,  whined,  and  begged  to  be 
lifted  up. 

Each  evening  we  camped  by  a  stream.  The 
little  beaver  amused  himself  by  playing,  swim- 
ming, and  diving  in  the  water.  In  his  playing 
he  did  so  much  diving  that  I  finally  gave  him  the 
name  Diver.  This  name  he  quickly  learned, 
and  never  failed  to  come  when  I  called  or  when  I 
whistled  for  him.  His  hind  feet  were  webbed 
like  the  feet  of  a  duck,  while  his  forepaws  were 
more  like  those  of  a  monkey.  He  often  combed 
his  hair  carefully  with  his  fore  claws. 

When  playing  alone  Diver  spent  minutes  at  a 
stretch  with  imaginary  playfellows.  He  raced 
or  wrestled  with  them  and  occasionally  simply 
annihilated  an  imaginary  enemy.  He  engaged 
in  serious  constructive  work.  He  would  cut  a  few 
little  twigs,  gnaw  these  into  sections,  and  build  a 
tiny  dam.  Sometimes  the  twigs  were  piled  in 
the  water  as  though  being  stored  for  winter  food. 


72  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Diver's  food  was  bark — usually  aspen — al- 
though he  frequently  ate  that  of  willow,  birch, 
or  alder.  In  each  case  he  cut  a  small  twig  and 
from  this  ate  the  bark  and  sometimes  a  small 
bit  of  the  wood.  Occasionally  he  took  a  mouth- 
ful of  grass,  ate  a  mushroom,  dug  out  a  root,  and 
sometimes  nibbled  at  the  pond  lilies  in  the  water. 
A  number  of  times  I  persuaded  him  to  examine  a 
small  pine.  Each  time  he  turned  up  his  nose 
and  sniffed  as  though  he  disliked  the  pungent 
odour.  I  could  not  get  him  to  gnaw  pine,  spruce, 
or  fir  trees. 

In  cutting,  Diver  used  his  four  front  teeth. 
These  were  as  thin  as  one's  fingernail  and  had 
very  sharp  edges.  I  never  succeeded  in  count- 
ing just  how  many  teeth  Diver  had,  because  he 
ever  objected  to  my  examining  his  mouth,  but 
a  full-grown  beaver  has  twenty  teeth.  The 
teeth  of  a  young  beaver  are  almost  white,  but 
those  of  an  old  beaver  are  almost  orange,  appar- 
ently stained  by  the  acid  from  the  aspens  and 
willows  which  they  have  cut. 

Diver  was  so  young  when  the  trapper  cap- 
tured him  that  he  could  hardly  have  remembered 
seeing  his  kind.  The  first  beavers  he  saw  were 
in  a  pond  perhaps  thirty  feet  from  us.  He  stood 
still  and  looked  at  them  for  several  seconds  with 
an  almost  expressionless  face.  Then  he  went  to 
them  at  his  usual  pace  and  had  a  visit. 


TRAVELLING  WITH  A  BEAVER  73 

Occasionally  we  camped  near  a  beaver  pond, 
and  ofttimes  other  young  beavers  played  with 
Diver.  Now  and  then  he  would  swim  across  a 
pond  to  visit  another  beaver.  He  seemed  to  be 
welcome,  and  although  the  old  ones  at  times 
appeared  to  receive  his  visit  indifferently  no  at- 
tempt was  ever  made  to  drive  him  away.  Strange 
as  it  may  seem,  he  never  showed  a  desire  to  re- 
main with  his  kind.  Rarely  did  he  linger  with 
them  more  than  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  and 
he  always  came  at  once  when  I  called. 

Early  one  afternoon  we  made  camp  by  a 
wide  stream.  Diver  amused  himself  for  a  short 
time  in  the  water,  then  went  out  on  the  sand  of 
the  opposite  side  of  the  stream.  I  sat  on  a  log 
a  few  feet  from  the  water  and  watched  him. 
He  dug  up  two  or  three  young  plants  of  the  Ore- 
gon grape  and  ate  them,  roots  and  all.  While 
he  was  searching  for  something  more  to  eat  a 
coyote  darted  at  him  from  behind  a  boulder. 
With  a  cry  like  that  of  a  frightened  child,  he 
dodged  the  coyote,  leaped  into  the  water,  and 
dived  out  of  sight.  He  came  up  on  my  side  of 
the  stream,  rushed  to  me,  and  made  haste  to 
hide  himself  between  the  log  on  which  I  sat  and 
my  coat  tail  which  hung  over  it. 

Although  there  was  no  near-by  beaver  house 
and  no  beavers  had  been  seen,  yet  within  a 
minute  three  beavers  appeared — one  from  up- 


74  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

stream  and  two  from  down.  They  swam  cau- 
tiously and  looked  carefully  about  with  only  eyes 
and  nose  thrust  above  the  surface  of  the  water. 
Presently  one  left  the  water  and  waddled  about 
smelling  at  the  place  where  Diver  had  been 
digging.  Another  came  ashore  at  the  spot  where 
Diver  had  come  up  out  of  the  water.  As 
he  came  toward  me  apparently  his  eyes  told  him 
that  I  was  a  part  of  the  log,  but  his  nose  declared 
that  he  was  near  danger.  I  sat  still.  After 
three  or  four  hesitating  attempts  to  retreat  he 
plucked  up  courage,  rose  to  his  full  height  on 
hind  legs  and  tail  to  stare  eagerly  at  me.  With 
head  well  up  and  forepaws  drooping,  he  gazed 
steadily  for  several  seconds,  then  gave  a  low 
whistle.  At  this  Diver  came  forth  from  behind 
my  coat.  The  old  beaver  started  forward  to 
meet  him  but  on  approaching  closer  took  fright 
at  me,  whirled,  and  made  a  jumping  dive  into 
the  water,  whacking  the  surface  with  his  tail  as 
he  disappeared.  Instantly  there  followed  two 
or  three  more  splashes  and  a  number  of  tail 
whacks  upon  the  water.  Apparently,  a  number 
of  beavers  who  had  come  in  response  to  Diver's 
cry  were  now  beating  a  retreat. 

Each  night  Diver  slept  on  the  ground  beneath 
the  canvas  upon  which  I  spread  my  bed.  He 
took  a  place  close  to  my  head  and  ofttimes  I 
reached  out  and  put  my  hand  upon  him  and 


TRAVELLING  WITH  A  BEAVER  75 

talked  to  him.  He  rarely  moved  during  the 
night  except  when  I  rose  from  the  bed  to  notice 
the  fire  or  to  have  a  look  at  our  horse.  Wolves 
howled,  coyotes  came  close  and  yelped,  but 
Diver  appeared  to  think  that  everything  was  all 
right  and  himself  safe  so  long  as  I  lay  still. 

A  shrill  cry  from  Diver  one  afternoon  told  me 
that  he  was  in  trouble.  We  had  camped  early 
this  day  and  he  had  gone  far  upstream.  On  the 
way  back  he  appeared  to  have  left  the  water 
and  to  have  started  across  a  neck  of  land  around 
which  the  stream  flowed.  Here  he  was  at- 
tacked by  a  lynx  but  escaped  into  the  water. 
The  lynx  evidently  had  made  numerous  at- 
tempts to  grab  him.  Wet  tracks  on  logs  showed 
that  the  lynx  had  manoeuvred  from  side  to  side, 
occasionally  stepping  into  the  water.  Diver 
had  silently  taken  care  of  himself  until  tiring  or 
becoming  frightened  and  had  then  called  for  help. 
He  kept  close  to  my  heels  on  the  way  back  to 
camp. 

Every  day  we  saw  beaver  houses,  ponds,  and 
numerous  places  where  beavers  had  cut  down 
aspen  and  cottonwood  trees.  The  trees  cut 
commonly  were  from  three  to  eight  inches  in 
diameter.  But  there  were  numbers  of  stumps 
from  twelve  to  sixteen  inches  across.  Most  of 
these  trees  had  been  cut  for  food.  Numerous 
cut  pieces  with  the  bark  eaten  off  lay  on  the  top 


76  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

and  back  side  of  every  dam.  Of  course  many 
trees  cut  had  been  built  into  the  new  dams  and 
houses,  but  most  of  those  we  saw  had  been  cut 
and  used  for  food. 

Most  of  the  beaver  houses  stood  out  in  the 
pond  like  little  islands.  A  few  were  built  partly 
on  the  shore  with  one  edge  in  the  water.  At 
two  or  three  colonies  we  failed  to  find  any  house. 
Commonly  where  the  bank  was  gravelly  and 
not  rocky  they  had  a  den  in  the  bank.  The 
den  was  two  or  three  feet  below  the  surface  and 
several  feet  from  the  water.  The  passageway 
to  this  was  by  a  tube  or  hole  about  one  foot  in 
diameter  and  several  feet  long,  with  the  opening 
or  entrance  a  foot  or  two  beneath  the  water  of 
the  stream  or  pond.  Being  well  beneath  the 
surface  of  the  water  it  was  not  closed  by  ice 
freezing  in  it,  and  being  open  the  beavers  could 
go  in  and  out  of  their  den  into  the  water  be- 
neath the  ice  even  in  midwinter. 

One  evening  prior  to  this  time  we  camped 
by  a  beaver  pond  in  the  edge  of  which  was  a 
temporarily  abandoned  beaver  house.  Up  to  this 
time  Diver  had  not  seen  a  beaver  or  a  beaver 
house.  To  see  what  he  would  make  of  this,  I  car- 
ried him  over  and  placed  him  on  top  of  it.  He  was 
interested  evidently  by  the  scent  which  arose 
through  the  half-plastered  top.  He  put  his  nose 
against  this  and  sniffed,  and  then  appeared  to  be 


TRAVELLING  WITH  A  BEAVER  77 

trying  to  look  down  into  it.  Finally  he  climbed 
down  to  the  farther  edge  of  the  house  and  leaped 
into  the  water.  After  swimming  about  for  a  time 
he  dived  and  came  up  the  entrance-way  into 
the  house.  I  could  hear  him  clawing  about  in- 
side. It  was  probably  an  accident  that  he 
came  into  this  entrance-way,  and  once  inside  he 
would  naturally  be  interested  in  the  scent 
of  his  kind.  After  remaining  for  a  short  time 
he  came  out,  climbed  up  on  the  house,  and  again 
sniffed  at  the  top.  After  this  he  went  into  the 
pond  for  another  swim  and  paid  no  further 
attention  to  the  house. 

Diver  apparently  enjoyed  watching  my  camp- 
fire.  Ofttimes  of  an  evening  he  would  lie  watch- 
ing it  for  an  hour  at  a  time.  A  number  of  times 
I  purposely  built  this  fire  close  to  the  stream  or 
the  pond  by  which  we  were  camping.  Other 
beavers  several  times  came  to  the  edge  of  the 
water,  thrust  out  their  heads,  and  there  remained 
for  minutes  looking  at  the  fire.  Often  I  moved 
about  to  see  what  they  would  do.  Generally 
they  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  me  unless 
I  came  within  three  or  four  feet  of  them.  The 
presence  of  Diver  may  have  given  them  more 
than  ordinary  confidence,  yet  many  times  I 
have  been  told  by  trappers  that  beavers  are  in- 
terested in  watching  a  camp-fire. 

The  tail  of  a  beaver  is  an  exceedingly  useful 


78  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

appendage.  It  is  covered  with  dark-coloured 
skin  and  looks  somewhat  like  a  piece  of  dark 
rubber.  Diver  sometimes  thrust  his  tail  under 
him  and  used  it  for  a  seat.  Sometimes  when 
standing  up  he  used  it  for  a  rear  brace  to  prop 
himself  on  his  hind  legs.  In  swimming  he  occa- 
sionally turned  it  on  edge  and  used  it  for  an  oar. 
It  served  in  the  water  as  a  rudder  whenever  a 
rudder  was  needed.  But  when  out  of  the  water, 
walking  about,  it  appeared  to  drag  behind  him  as 
though  attached  to  him  though  not  a  part  of  him. 
When  he  was  at  rest  he  commonly  tipped  his 
tail  on  edge,  doubled  it  around,  and  rested  it 
against  his  side.  On  one  occasion  he  thrust  his 
tail  between  his  legs,  scooped  up  a  mass  of  mud 
and  carried  it  up  on  a  small  fallen  log  near  by,  and 
dumped  it.  On  another  occasion  I  saw  him 
carrying  two  small  sticks  by  clasping  them  be- 
tween his  tail  and  his  stomach. 

A  few  days  before  I  gave  Diver  away  I  placed 
him  in  a  beaver  pond,  then  climbed  a  tree  and 
took  a  position  on  a  long  limb  that  reached  out 
over  the  water.  I  was  scarcely  in  the  tree  top 
when  a  number  of  beavers  resumed  the  work 
they  had  been  doing.  Three  young  beav- 
ers played  with  Diver  in  the  water.  In  my 
eagerness  to  see  what  was  going  on  I  leaned  too 
far  out.  The  limb  broke  and  I  knocked  most  of 
the  water  out  of  the  pond. 


TRAVELLING  WITH  A  BEAVER  79 

At  the  end  of  my  outing  Diver  became  the 
pet  of  two  pioneer  children  on  the  bank  of  the 
Snake  River.  For  the  first  few  weeks  the  chil- 
dren kept  Diver  in  the  house.  This  plainly 
was  too  warm  for  him,  and  he  was  at  last  given 
a  straw  bed  in  a  little  dog  house  just  outside 
the  door.  He  enjoyed  spending  the  nights  in 
this  but  he  insisted  on  being  frequently  admitted 
to  the  house.  The  river  was  less  than  fifty 
feet  away.  To  this  he  made  many  a  journey 
for  a  swim  and  a  dive.  Often  the  children  went 
with  him.  By  the  hour  they  would  sit  on  the 
bank  and  watch  him  or  play  with  him  by  throw- 
ing sticks  into  the  stream  which  he  would  swim 
out  and  get  and  bring  back  to  the  shore. 

Diver  frequently  followed  the  children  about 
when  they  went  into  the  woods  away  from  the 
river.  They  always  travelled  too  rapidly  for 
him.  As  he  went  hurriedly  along,  trying  to 
keep  up,  he  scolded  and  scolded.  Finally,  if 
they  did  not  stop,  he  sat  down  and  complained 
and  scolded  so  vigorously  that  they  usually  came 
back  to  him.  During  the  first  few  months  they 
had  him  the  children  occasionally  helped  him 
along  on  their  way  from  the  river  trips  by  carry- 
ing him  a  short  distance.  This  he  enjoyed,  in 
fact  he  enjoyed  taking  a  ride  of  any  kind,  even 
upon  a  pack  horse.  The  second  year  he  became 
heavier  than  the  children  cared  to  carry.  Al- 


8o  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

though  they  often  held  him  in  their  arms  the 
only  rides  that  he  had  were  those  that  they  gave 
him  in  a  wagon  and  in  a  boat. 

The  three  years  that  he  spent  in  this  place 
were  years  of  enjoyment  both  for  the  children 
and  himself.  One  day  Diver  swam  downstream 
some  distance  below  the  house.  He  was  out 
on  shore  cutting  an  aspen  when  a  hunter  shot 
him. 


CHAPTER  VI 

CAMPING   ON   THE    PLAINS 

I  WALKED  out  of  Cheyenne  early  one  morn- 
ing thirty-odd  years  ago  with  a  camp  outfit 
and  a  week's  provisions.     It  was  late  May. 
One  mile  out  and  I  was  on  the  fenceless,  trackless 
plains.     The  prairie  was  green  with  low-growing 
buffalo  grass  and  brilliant  with  dashes  of  red, 
yellow,  and  blue  wild  flowers  on  short  stems. 
Meadow  larks  were   singing  and   prairie  dogs 
barking  merrily.     The  sun  shone  hot  from  a 
clear  blue  sky  all  day. 

A  little  before  sundown  I  dropped  my  heavy 
pack  by  an  old  buffalo  wallow  near  the  Wyoming- 
Nebraska  line.  I  could  see  miles  across  level 
plains  toward  every  point  of  the  compass;  not  a 
house,  a  fence,  or  a  tree  within  the  horizon.  I 
was  alone.  I  judged  there  was  not  a  person 
within  fifteen  miles,  perhaps  not  for  twice  as 
far.  Although  I  travelled  about  for  days  I  did 
not  see  a  house  or  a  fence. 

For  months  I  had  planned  to  have  a  camping 
trip  out  on  the  Great  Plains  to  see  what  wild  life 
lived  on  the  prairie  and  how  it  lived.  I  felt  that 

81 


82  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

I  was  well  prepared.  I  had  learned  to  identify 
numbers  of  trees,  birds,  and  wild  flowers.  I  was 
certain  I  knew  how  to  camp  and  especially  that 
my  camp  equipment  was  correct.  In  fire  start- 
ing I  could  have  taken  a  prize.  But  I  found  my- 
self embarrassed  with  green  grass  and  old  "cow- 
chips,"  by  a  treeless,  rockless  water  hole. 

At  last  I  had  a  fire  glowing  in  the  darkness 
out  in  the  lone  wide  prairie.  The  water  hole  by 
which  I  camped  was  a  shallow  buffalo  wallow 
about  fifty  feet  long  and  half  as  wide.  Ten 
years  before  thousands  of  buffalo  had  ranged 
these  scenes.  Water  is  scarce  on  the  plains, 
and  these  wallows  once  served  both  the  ante- 
lope and  the  buffalo  as  drinking  places.  The 
crowding  stars  seemed  only  a  stone's  throw 
above  the  wide,  flat  prairie,  and  the  merry  coy- 
otes were  having  fun  all  around  me  when  I  lay 
down  to  sleep. 

I  wasted  a  lot  of  time  the  next  morning  in 
trying  to  find  something  among  my  too  numer- 
ous pieces  of  camp  outfit.  Just  as  I  had  things 
scattered  over  the  prairie  two  cowboys  came  rid- 
ing up.  They  were  from  a  cow  outfit  that  was 
drifting  northward  and  had  seen  me  from  afar. 
They  were  grazing  two  thousand  head  of  cattle 
and  had  a  six-horse  cook  wagon  and  seventy 
saddle  ponies. 

"What's  this,  a  general  merchandise  store?" 


CAMPING  ON  THE  PLAINS  83 

one  of  them  called,  pleasantly,  as  he  viewed  my 
equipment  scattered  around  the  water  hole. 

"The  kid  has  more  kitchenware  than  the  cook 
at  our  cow  camp,"  said  the  other  kindly  but 
merrily  as  they  rode  off. 

The  prairie  dogs  were  yapping  and  scampering 
about  and  I  threw  my  belongings  into  a  heap 
and  went  toward  the  nearest  dog  town.  They 
were  excited  over  my  presence:  sat  up  and  barked 
and  chattered,  and  I  am  certain  used  bad 
language  because  I  did  not  move  on.  When  I 
approached  nearer  than  twenty  feet  they  ducked 
into  their  holes.  They  looked  and  acted  more 
like  fat  woodchucks  than  dogs. 

In  a  shallow  ravine  near  camp  I  came  close  to  a 
mother  antelope  and  her  two  kids.  She  made 
the  youngsters  lie  down  the  instant  she  saw  me 
and  then  edged  off,  plainly  with  the  hope  of 
leading  me  to  follow.  But  I  wanted  a  closer 
view  of  the  kids. 

When  I  reached  the  spot  where  I  supposed 
them  lying  I  could  not  see  them.  A  young  ante- 
lope blends  with  the  plains,  plants,  and  soil  so  that 
it  is  well  hidden  when  it  flattens  down.  I  stum- 
bled over  one  of  the  youngsters.  He  leaped  up 
and  then  I  spied  the  second.  But  not  until  I 
had  touched  it  with  my  hand  did  it  quit  playing 
dead  and  rush  off  with  the  other  toward  the 
mother. 


84  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

They  went  only  a  short  distance  when  they  re- 
entered  the  ravine.  I  slipped  down  this,  crawled 
over  a  ridge,  and  came  within  a  hundred  feet  of 
them.  The  youngsters  were  busy  suckling. 
One  was  kneeling  on  each  side,  occasionally 
urging  mother  to  speed  the  milk  by  butting  her. 
When  they  started  across  the  prairie  I  went  far 
around  and  came  in  behind  a  low  ridge,  planning 
to  get  close  to  them  or  to  another  mother  with 
one  kid  whom  I  saw  in  the  distance.  After  a 
number  of  trials  and  much  travelling  I  was  again 
close  to  the  mother  and  two  kids.  But  she 
scented  me  and  ran  far  away. 

It  was  time  to  start  for  camp.  I  looked 
around  to  figure  out  where  it  was.  Out  on  the 
plains  where  most  of  the  time  one  can  see  miles 
in  every  direction  I  had  not  thought  of  using  a 
compass. 

I  had  known  the  points  of  the  compass  all  day. 
There  was  the  sun  a  little  above  the  horizon  and 
I  knew  that  beneath  it  was  a  little  to  the  south  of 
west.  But  knowing  the  directions  did  not  tell 
me  the  all-important  thing — the  direction  to 
camp.  I  did  not  know  whether  carnp  was  miles 
south  or  miles  west. 

I  walked  a  short  distance  to  the  top  of  a  ridge. 
I  could  not  see  a  single  landmark  that  I  recog- 
nized. Landmarks  had  been  forgotten  in  the 
watching  of  antelope.  The  sun  was  setting 


CAMPING  ON  THE  PLAINS  85 

red  in  the  west.  This  was  a  landmark,  and  as  I 
had  wandered  eastward  from  camp  I  thought 
and  also  felt  that  my  buffalo  wallow  camp  must 
be  somewhere  off  in  the  west. 

I  headed  at  the  sun  and  walked  rapidly  until 
dark.  I  still  was  uncertain  where  camp  was  and 
stopped  and  made  a  fire.  A  compass  will  not 
do  a  fellow  any  good,  nor  will  knowing  points 
of  the  compass,  unless  he  constantly  use  his 
head  and  keep  the  position  of  camp  in  mind.  I 
should  have  looked  back  occasionally  during  the 
day  and  made  mental  pictures  of  the  few  land- 
marks. But  I  spent  the  night  on  the  prairie 
without  supper  or  bedding. 

Daylight  came  grandly  at  four  o'clock  and  I 
at  once  started  off  to  back-track  myself  to  camp. 
A  number  of  antelope  stood  for  a  time  on  a  ridge 
between  me  and  the  red  rising  sun.  I  headed 
eastward.  I  had  walked  due  west  after  leaving 
the  mother  antelope  the  night  before  and  easily 
back-tracked  this  straight  line. 

Back-tracking  myself  over  the  course  where 
I  had  crawled,  curved,  and  doubled  in  following 
the  antelope  was  a  task.  Occasionally  I  got 
down  on  hands  and  knees  to  find  the  dim  trail, 
or  to  determine  which  way  I  should  follow  it. 
This  was  the  best  of  trailing  experience. 

Finally  I  arrived  at  the  place  where  I  had 
first  seen  the  mother  antelope  and  kids.  Then, 


86  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

certain  of  the  way,  I  gave  up  trailing  and  started 
on  a  short  cut  to  camp.  I  met  a  vigorous  whirl- 
wind spinning  across  the  plains  and  taking  with 
it  tinware  and  other  non-essentials  from  camp. 
"Go  it,"  I  called,  and  let  it  go.  On  the  way  I 
must  have  picked  up  fifty-seven  varieties  of  my 
camp  stuff.  Then  I  walked  upon  the  ashes  of 
a  camp-fire  that  appeared  familiar.  The  tracks 
were  my  own.  Here  within  five  hundred  feet  of 
Buffalo  Camp  I  had  spent  last  night. 

This  experience  showed  me  that  the  supreme 
camping  test  for  an  outdoor  fellow  is  finding  the 
way  back  to  camp.  He  cannot  do  this  with  a 
compass  alone  unless  he  turn  surveyor  and  make 
,notes  every  little  while.  I  have  known  many  a 
man  with  a  compass  to  become  hopelessly  lost. 
One  who  makes  a  mental  log  of  his  movements, 
who  knows  where  he  is  every  minute,  will  be 
able  to  return  to  camp  without  a  compass  or 
even  without  landmarks. 

In  back-tracking  myself  I  discovered  a  number 
of  Nature's  points  of  the  compass,  pointers  that 
I  had  not  before  noticed.  They  were  plentiful 
enough  and  I  was  surprised  not  to  have  seen 
them  earlier.  These  were  made  by  the  prevail- 
ing westerly  winds.  Piles  of  tumbleweeds  against 
the  westerly  sides  of  sagebrush  clumps.  On  the 
eastern  leeward  side  of  these  clumps  were  sand 
drifts.  These  formed  east  and  west  lines  here 


CAMPING  ON  THE  PLAINS  87 

and  there  that  showed  long  distances.  Here 
were  home-grown  compasses  that  wo\ild  not  get 
out  of  order,  or  become  lost  or  broken. 

I  was  eager  to  see  the  country  off  in  the  north 
beyond  the  North  Platte  River.  Leaving  most 
of  my  things  at  Buffalo  Camp  I  started  north- 
ward one  morning,  travelling  light.  I  would  re- 
turn to  this  camp  in  three  or  four  days.  I  did 
not  stop  often  or  long,  but  headed  northeast  and 
at  noon  came  to  the  river.  Following  down- 
stream along  its  low  bank  I  saw  a  number  of  logs 
on  a  sand  bar.  With  willows  I  lashed  two  of 
these  logs  together  and  after  a  delay  of  only  an 
hour  pushed  off  into  the  water  with  a  pole. 
Annual  high  water  had  not  yet  arrived  and  in  a 
few  minutes  my  two-log  raft  was  on  the  sandy, 
shallow  farther  water  edge.  I  tied  the  raft, 
thinking  I  might  come  that  way  again,  and  went 
on.  When  evening  came  I  was  a  long  distance 
from  Buffalo  Camp  and  the  river  with  an  empty 
canteen.  I  had  not  seen  any  water  since  cross- 
ing the  river,  about  twenty  miles  back.  A  map 
that  I  carried  indicated  a  small  stream  a  little 
more  than  twenty  miles  off  to  the  north.  As  I 
was  northward  bound  I  concluded  to  travel  on 
through  the  night. 

It  was  a  perfect  evening  and  off  I  walked 
across  the  lonely  prairie,  heading  for  the  North 
Star.  Clouds  came  floating  across  the  sky  and 


88  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

in  watching  closely  for  the  star  I  walked  off  a 
bank.  It  seemed  as  though  I  had  stepped  into  a 
canon.  But  it  was  only  a  gully  about  five  feet 
wide  and  about  as  deep.  Uninjured,  I  climbed 
out  and  went  on,  but  I  added  gullies  to  my  plains 
woodcraft. 

In  a  little  while  all  stars  were  shut  out  by 
clouds.  I  went  on  more  slowly  so  as  not  to 
stumble  or  step  overboard  again.  I  might  be 
going  too  far  to  the  right  or  to  the  left.  If  I  was 
I  might  walk  all  night  and  still  be  as  far  from 
water  as  when  I  started. 

Suddenly  something  leaped  to  its  feet  and 
dashed  through  the  sagebrush  on  my  left.  It 
sounded  like  an  elephant.  I  turned  to  see  what 
this  was  and  took  a  header  over  a  bunch  of  sage, 
landing  in  a  pile  of  tumbleweed.  This  reminded 
me.  Here  were  guides — weeds  drifted  against 
the  sage  by  prevailing  westerly  winds  and  sand 
in  shelter  to  the  leeward.  From  these  I  easily 
faced  north  and  went  on  across  the  plains. 

At  intervals  far  off  in  the  north  I  saw  a  dim 
light,  perhaps  a  camp-fire.  It  strangely  ap- 
peared to  be  as  distant  as  a  star.  It  disappeared 
and  reappeared  as  my  viewpoint  changed  a 
number  of  times.  As  it  was  straight  into  the 
north  I  had  begun  to  use  it  as  a  guide  when  it 
grew  dim  and  then  faded.  From  time  to  time 
I  came  upon  sage  clumps.  I  checked  directions 


CAMPING  ON  THE  PLAINS  89 

and,  being  confident  that  I  was  right,  went  on  to 
water,  which  I  found  at  a  little  past  two  in  the 
morning. 

After  sunup  I  tried  to  locate  the  source  of 
the  fire  that  I  had  seen  during  the  night.  With 
glasses  I  discovered  the  cook  wagon  of  a  cow 
camp  miles  away  in  the  north.  I  started  across 
the  prairie  toward  it,  planning  to  spend  the 
night  there. 

On  the  way  I  stopped  twice  to  watch  prairie 
dogs  and  to  examine  their  "towns."  In  one 
town  a  mob  of  its  inhabitants  was  trying  to  kill  a 
rattler  or  to  drive  him  out  of  the  city  limits. 
He  finally  ran  into  a  prairie-dog  hole.  Two  or 
three  dogs,  all  excited,  looked  into  the  hole  while 
the  others  all  together  kept  up  a  yapping  and 
yelping.  I  planned  to  return  to  the  plains 
sometime  and  have  several  days  getting  ac- 
quainted with  the  life  of  these  fat,  brown  little 
people  who  live  in  towns  on  the  prairie. 

The  two  cowboys  who  had  called  at  my  camp 
were  the  first  men  I  saw  as  I  approached  the 
camp  wagon.  They  asked  if  I  was  still  running 
a  dry  goods  and  hardware  store.  I  laughed  and 
told  them  I  thought  to  add  a  grocery  depart- 
ment. I  bought  supplies  enough  for  several 
days.  I  did  not  tell  the  cowboys  that  when  I 
left  Buffalo  Camp  the  whole  prairie-dog  village 
was  yapping  at  the  pile  of  non-essential  camp 


90          WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

stuff  that  I  had  left  behind.  I  did  not  need  it  and 
never  went  back  for  it.  From  that  time  I 
planned  to  "go  light." 

The  cow-camp  foreman  told  me  of  a  rough 
sand-hill  region  about  twenty  miles  off  to  the 
northeast  where  I  could  see  a  beaver  colony. 
There  were  other  things  of  interest,  too,  but 
beavers  out  in  the  plains  were  enough.  Again  I 
travelled. 

A  long  day's  journey  landed  me  in  the  north- 
western corner  of  Nebraska,  perhaps  somewhere 
in  what  now  is  Box  Butte  County.  A  flood  of 
some  years  before  had  made  a  long,  narrow  island 
in  a  little  stream  and  on  it  were  a  number  of  old 
cottonwood  trees.  One  of  these  stood  on  a  ten- 
foot  bank.  Beneath  its  flat,  spider-web  roots 
a  badger  and  perhaps  later  coyotes  had  had  a 
den.  As  the  roots  held  the  earth  and  would 
make  a  good  roof  I  cleared  out  the  loose  sand 
and  enlarged  this  den  into  a  cave.  Then  I  cut  a 
number  of  sods  from  the  bank  near  by  and 
closed  up  part  of  the  opening.  In  less  than  a 
half  day  I  had  a  shelter  that  would  have  made 
any  bandit  happy. 

I  called  the  place  Kingfisher  Camp  as  a  king- 
fisher had  a  nest  hole  in  the  bank  close  to  my 
cave.  Here  I  had  shelter,  wood  to  burn,  and 
running  water.  The  first  night  in  this  camp  was 
rainy — the  only  rain  I  had  while  on  this  trip. 


CAMPING  ON  THE  PLAINS  91 

My  equipment  now  consisted  of  a  haversack,  one 
blanket,  one  waterproof  canvas,  a  large  and  a 
small  tin  cup,  tin  pan,  canteen,  hatchet,  pocket- 
knife,  and  a  field  glass.  This  seemed  to  be 
enough.  I  did  not  have  any  kind  of  a  gun. 
Later  I  often  carried  still  less  equipment.  I  have 
found  a  sleeping  bag  the  most  satisfactory  bed, 
but  I  sometimes  went  without  bedding. 

Many  of  the  cottonwoods  along  this  stream 
had  fire  scars  on  the  westerly  side  of  the  trunk. 
The  bark  on  a  number  was  burned  off  on  one  side 
nearly  as  high  as  my  head.  I  puzzled  for  two 
or  three  days  why  this  was  all  on  the  westerly 
side.  Against  the  westerly  side  of  other  clumps 
of  cottonwoods  I  saw  quantities  of  windblown 
trash,  leaves,  grass,  and  tumbleweeds.  Then, 
of  course,  I  knew  the  burning  of  west-side  trash 
piles  would  make  fire  scars  on  the  westerly  side 
of  tree  trunks.  Every  few  years  the  plains  are 
swept  by  prairie  fires.  These  fire-made  tree 
blazes  were  a  new  point  in  woodcraft. 

To  watch  the  ways  of  antelope  I  one  morning 
climbed  to  the  top  of  a  hill,  waved  my  hat, 
then  looked  through  my  glass  at  the  antelope 
on  a  hill  miles  off.  A  number  saw  me  and 
flashed  or  opened  their  white  rump  patches. 
This  flashing  was  seen  by  antelope  still  farther 
off  on  the  horizon;  for  I  saw  their  rumps  sud- 
denly show  white  flags.  By  watching  and  sig- 


92  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

nailing  each  flock  becomes  a  sentinel  for  all  other 
flocks.  I  imagine  that  an  alarm  flash  may  be 
relayed  to  the  third  or  fourth  flock  in  the  dis- 
tance. 

The  antelope  is  the  animal  of  the  plains.  He 
is  adjusted  to  treeless,  flat,  level  distances. 
Most  animals  aim  to  escape  enemies  by  running 
out  of  sight.  But  the  antelope  often  cannot 
get  out  of  sight  on  the  level,  treeless  plains.  He 
escapes  by  having  the  right  kind  of  eyes,  legs, 
and  signals.  He  probably  is  the  swiftest  of 
long-distance  animal  runners.  His  eyes  are  large 
and  almost  telescopic. 

The  third  day  that  I  was  in  Kingfisher  Camp  I 
started  to  follow  up  to  the  source  of  the  stream 
that  passed  my  cave.  About  two  miles  up  I 
came  to  the  beaver  dam,  probably  built  the  year 
before.  There  was  not  the  sign  of  a  house. 
I  smelled  something  very  like  beaver  and,  looking 
down,  saw  "a  hole  where  an  antelope  had  thrust 
its  foot  through  the  top  of  a  beaver  den  that 
had  been  built  under  the  bank.  A  tunnel  whose 
entrance  was  concealed  more  than  a  foot  under 
water  reached  the  den  from  the  pond. 

Several  miles  up  I  left  the  channel  to  make  a 
long  half  circle  through  a  hilly,  rough  country 
and  try  to  find  my  way  back  to  camp.  I  wanted 
to  get  the  habit  of  taking  my  reckoning,  so  that 
I  could  be  certain  that  I  could  do  so  all  the  time 


CAMPING  ON  THE  PLAINS  93 

without  thinking  about  it,  and  do  it  right.  I 
had  good  experience.  Camp  was  where  a  camp 
usually  is — where  one  leaves  it. 

In  Kingfisher  Camp  again  I  sat  down  and 
traced  my  route  in  a  notebook.  I  was  surprised 
that  I  remembered  the  turns  and  the  objects 
passed.  In  making  this  tracing  my  memory  in- 
sisted on  recalling  a  number  of  objects  I  had 
not  remembered  passing.  It  recalled  a  tree 
with  an  old  axe  mark  on  it.  I  could  not  remem- 
ber seeing  this;  in  fact,  I  could  not  believe  that 
I  had  seen  it.  The  following  morning  I  was  by 
this  tree  before  sunrise.  It  did  have  an  old  axe 
mark  on  it;  one,  so  the  annual  rings  said,  that 
had  been  there  for  twenty-four  years.  I  must 
have  been  watching  the  way  closely,  as  well  as 
other  things  even  more  interesting,  but  I  saw 
this  landmark. 

In  Alaska,  Canada,  Mexico,  and  in  every  state 
in  the  Union  I  have  sat  by  a  camp-fire  all  alone. 
And  the  most  useful  resource  that  I  had  in  all 
these  hundreds  of  camping  experiences  in  all 
sorts  of  places  and  in  all  kinds  of  weather  was 
in  ever  having  my  reckoning  without  stopping  to 
take  it. 

A  captain  must  often  take  reckonings;  wind 
and  tide  drift  the  ship  out  of  its  course.  The 
man  at  the  wheel  must  have  a  compass,  but  this 
alone  cannot  navigate  the  ship;  the  compass 


94  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

shows  the  north,  it  does  not  show  where  in  the 
ocean  the  ship  is,  or  the  direction  to  port  desired. 
These  must  be  determined  by  mathematical 
reckonings. 

The  captain,  pilot,  scout  surveyor,  timber 
cruiser — each  is  doing  a  work  somewhat  akin  to 
the  work  of  the  others;  and  the  explorer  must  be 
a  combination  of  all  these  and  something  more. 
A  boy  out  camping  in  a  region  new  to  him  is  an 
explorer  even  though  he  does  not  wear  buckskin 
and  have  a  beard — or  go  far  from  home. 

One  morning  two  coyotes  came  near  camp. 
I  followed  them  nearly  all  day.  "Will  I  be 
able  to  find  my  way  back  to  camp  ?"  I  asked  my- 
self. I  had  looked  back  at  landmarks,  noticed 
turns,  planned  to  remember  ravines,  hills, 
prickly-pear  beds,  and  distances  from  one  turn 
or  landmark  to  another. 

The  coyotes  made  loops,  turns,  went  off  over  a 
confusion  of  sand  hills,  travelled  toward  every 
point  on  the  horizon,  and  kept  me  hustling  to 
keep  up.  For  a  time  both  coyotes  were  to- 
gether. One  then  turned  aside  and  dug  out 
mice  and  the  other  appeared  to  be  leaping  into 
the  air  after  grasshoppers.  They  tried  to  slip 
up  on  prairie  dogs.  One  hid  while  the  other 
made  a  dash  into  the  dog  town.  It  failed  to  catch 
any  and  went  on  for  a  short  distance  and  sat 
down.  While  the  dogs  were  interested  in  watch- 


CAMPING  ON  THE  PLAINS  95 

ing  him  the  other  coyote  slipped  up  close  and 
made  a  dash  after  one  farthest  from  the  hole,  but 
the  fat  dog  won  by  half  a  length. 

While  the  coyotes  were  together  on  a  ridge 
another  coyote  passed  near.  They  watched  him, 
but  he  went  by  pretending  not  to  see  them. 
They  hunted  on.  One  turned  to  right  of  a  sand 
hill  and  the  other  to  the  left.  I  watched  the 
one  on  the  right  slip  up  and  peep  over  into  a 
ravine.  He  then  descended  slowly  as  though 
waiting  for  the  other  coyote  to  start  something. 
It  started  a  jack  rabbit.  This  was  overhauled 
before  it  could  get  out  of  the  rough  ravine. 

Here,  as  in  the  mountains  and  forests,  I 
constantly  tried  to  get  close  to  animals.  I  would 
crawl  to  the  top  of  a  hill  or  ridge  and  peep  over 
before  showing  myself.  I  would  peep  out  on 
the  plains  before  climbing  out  of  a  ravine. 
Often  this  manner  of  stalking  brought  me  close  to 
a  coyote  or  an  antelope,  and  frequently  I  lay 
for  a  long  time  watching  them  without  frighten- 
ing them  by  showing  myself. 

As  the  afternoon  was  well  along  and  as  I  had 
travelled  twenty  miles  or  farther  in  a  roundabout 
way,  the  thing  now  was  to  go  directly  to  camp. 
I  felt  it  could  not  be  more  than  five  miles  away, 
across  the  confusion  of  sand  hills.  To  be  certain 
of  my  reckoning  I  sat  down  by  a  smooth  patch 
of  sand  and  marked  the  crooked  line  in  it  which 


96  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

showed  my  kinked,  looped,  and  tangled  trail  since 
leaving  camp. 

To  keep  in  mind  just  where  camp  was  at  all 
times  I  hit  upon  this  plan,  which  I  have  since 
used  hundreds  of  times.  I  imagined  myself 
attached  to  camp  with  a  line  and  reel  which 
promptly  pulled  in  slack  and  also  kept  a  steady 
pull  on  myself.  At  all  times  I  knew  where  camp 
was  and  where  I  was.  This  plan  kept  before  me  a 
map  picture  of  the  locality  and  mentally  showed 
me  camp.  I  could  estimate  the  distance. 

Off  I  started  down  the  sand  hill  for  camp.  It 
was  dark  before  I  had  gone  a  mile.  I  had  to 
travel  slowly  for  these  hills  were  cut  with  deep 
gullies.  Twice  I  had  to  go  around  a  long,  deep 
gully.  If  ever  I  could  get  down  on  the  level 
plain  I  could  go  straight  to  camp,  even  though 
blindfolded,  I  thought.  There  was  no  fear  in 
my  mind  of  getting  lost.  And  I  did  not.  Out 
into  the  level  prairie  I  walked  at  last,  and  made 
my  way  easily  to  Kingfisher  Camp.  By  blazing 
cottonwood  camp-fire  I  marked  my  day's  trail, 
its  loops,  reverse  loops,  circles,  zigzags,  and  twists 
upon  a  whitened  buffalo  skull.  Then  I  drew 
it  in  my  notebook.  It  had  been  my  most 
eventful  day  in  the  realm  of  woodcraft.  I  could 
now  ramble  over  the  roughest  of  country  and  at 
any  instant,  without  consulting  compass,  point 
my  finger  at  camp. 


CAMPING  ON  THE  PLAINS  97 

I  knew  only  a  few  of  the  plants  and  animals 
on  the  plains.  The  yucca,  a  green,  bristling, 
plant-porcupine,  was  one  of  these.  I  carried 
home  with  me  a  few  pressed  plants  which 
I  wanted  to  know  about.  After  each  of  the 
camping  trips  that  I  made  later  I  went  to  a 
library  as  soon  as  I  could  and  also  talked  with 
people  who  might  give  me  information  about 
some  of  the  new  plants  or  birds  seen  on  a  recent 
trip. 

Often  I  could  not  find  what  I  wanted  to  know. 
Sometimes  both  books  and  people  gave  misin- 
formation. By  and  by  I  learned  that  there  were 
many  points  concerning  outdoor  life  that  I 
would  have  to  find  out  for  myself.  I  had  no  end 
of  fun  and  camping  in  exploring  for  what  I 
wanted  to  know.  Beavers,  bears,  and  moun- 
tain sheep  gave  me  many  a  day  in  the  wild 
places  between  camp-fires.  The  greatest  fun 
connected  with  camping  is  tracking,  trailing, 
and  at  last  discovering  another  chapter  of  a  real 
unwritten  nature  story. 

I  carried  a  notebook  but  I  used  it  sparingly. 
Sometimes  I  measured  something  and  wanted 
the  exact  figures.  Or  I  put  down  the  unusual, 
or  made  a  note  of  things  I  wanted  to  find  out. 
Here  are  a  few  of  the  things  written  while  out 
in  the  plains : 

"Sage  is  the  only  thing  antelope  ate  while  I 


98  WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

was  watching  them.  Queer  if  this  bitter  stuff 
is  all  that  is  eaten." 

"In  a  lone  cottonwood  there  were  nests  of  blue- 
birds, woodpeckers,  wrens,  and  robins.  Pretty 
thick,  yet  peaceable  as  far  as  I  saw.  I  had 
thought  that  each  pair  claimed  at  least  four 
trees." 

"Prairie  dogs  act  more  like  chipmunks  than 
dogs  and  look  more  like  pigs  than  dogs.  Who 
could  have  named  them  dogs?" 

"  Find  out  about  that  story  that  owls,  prairie 
dogs,  and  rattlers  live  in  the  same  hole." 

"Coyotes  seem  to  have  more  fun  than  any 
other  animal  on  the  plains.  They  are  hollering 
around  thick  all  night.  Last  night  it  sounded 
like  several  thousand,  but  this  morning  there 
were  only  two  in  sight." 

"I  cannot  hear  anything  mournful  in  the 
barking  and  howling  of  coyotes.  Sounds  more 
like  a  gang  having  a  time.  At  times  last  night 
they  were  signalling.  One  near  camp  started  a 
song  and  stopped;  then  another  about  two  miles 
off  tried  the  same  song;  when  he  quit  a  third 
who  sounded  a  million  miles  away  tried  his 


voice." 


"The  meadow  lark  seems  sometimes  to  say, 
'By  the  Great  Gewhittaker/  He  is  the  best 
singer  I  have  heard  on  the  plains." 

"To-day  saw  a  prairie-dog  town  that  was  a 


CAMPING  ON  THE  PLAINS  99 

quarter  of  a  mile  across.  Thousands  of  holes 
close  together.  Each  had  an  opening  that  the 
top  of  my  hat  just  plugged.  Each  hole  had  a 
dam  of  dirt  around  it  that  looked  like  a  little 
crater.  I  stepped  off  ninety  feet  square,  size 
of  a  baseball  diamond,  and  inside  this  there 
were  forty-six  holes." 

Most  camping  trips  were  made  alone  and 
without  a  pack  horse.  During  each  trip  I 
watched  for  new  animals.  The  ones  I  had 
known  always  gave  new  performances.  Often 
I  sat  for  two  hours  watching  a  mother  bird 
feed  her  young,  or  sometimes  it  was  a  lesson 
in  flying.  Frequently  I  came  upon  a  battle 
between  ant  colonies.  The  last  day  on  the 
plains,  while  two  colonies  were  fighting  around 
and  all  over  a  big  ant  hill,  two  flickers  came  along 
and  ate  hundreds  of  the  fighters. 

When  vacation  ended  I  returned  to  the  cow 
camp  and  one  of  the  cowboys  took  me  to  the 
nearest  railroad  station  and  I  went  home  to  my 
log  cabin  in  the  mountains  at  Long's  Peak. 

Of  all  the  useless  hardware  which  I  carried 
around  during  my  earlier  camping  trips  a  big 
compass  was  the  most  unnecessary. 

A  compass  will  get  out  of  order  or  lost  or 
jammed.  And  magnetic  iron  in  some  places 
influences  it  so  strongly  that  its  needle  goes 
round  and  round  like  lost  geese.  The  needle 


ioo         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

is  unable  to  calm  down  and  point  at  anything 
definite.     And  then  it  is  sometimes  sufficiently 
influenced  to  point  wrong  without  one  suspect- 
ing it.     A  man  with  whom  I  was  camping  was 
uncertain   as  to   direction   and   climbed   on   a 
quartz  outcrop  that  carried  iron  and  read  hi 
compass.     The   needle    pointed   east    and   no 
north.     He  arrived  in  camp  in  time  for  break 
fast  instead  of  supper. 

Everywhere  outdoors  Nature  has  compasses 
guideposts,  landmarks — markers  and  pointers 
East,  west,  north,  and  south  are  shown.  Frost 
fire,  ice,  water,  trees,  and  plants;  these  in  de 
signs,  symbols,  signs,  and  showy  colours  are  a 
thick  as  flags,  banners,  and  bunting  on  Celebra 
tion  Day. 

In  deserts,  most  vegetation  on  steep,  northerly 
slopes  and  north  facing  canon  walls. 

In  arid  territory,  most  grass  on  northerl; 
slopes. 

More  moss  and  lichen  are  on  northerly  sides 
of  trees,  cliffs,  and  boulders  that  are  found  in 
the  open. 

In  Canada  and  Northern  states,  rocks  markec 
with  north  and  south  scratches  from  southerly 
glacier  flow.  If  these  vary  from  north  anc 
south  the  local  point  will  be  uniform. 

Prevailing  direction  of  wind  near  seashore  in 
many  localities  is  pointed  by  limbs  of  trees. 


CAMPING  ON  THE  PLAINS  101 

At  timberline  in  most  mountains  many  of  the 
trees  are  flag-like,  all  limbs  stream  leeward. 

During  years  of  camping  I  have  used  all  these 
signs  and  many  others. 

I  once  said  that  if  carried  blindfolded  into 
the  Rocky  Mountains  I  could  examine  a  few  trees 
with  my  hands  and  tell  the  points  of  the  compass, 
the  altitude,  and  the  season  of  the  year.  And 
also  that  in  determining  these  trees  I  could 
name  the  plants  and  the  kinds  of  insects,  birds, 
and  animals  most  likely  to  be  found  near  these 
trees.  Afterward  I  became  snow-blinded  on 
the  summit  of  the  mountains  when  I  was  alone. 
I  started  down  off  these  high,  snowy  mountains 
with  their  icy  slopes  and  precipitous  canons  be- 
lieving that  I  could  find  my  way  without  eyes. 
Once  down  to  timberline  I  determined  directions 
by  feeling  of  trees.  Finding  Engelmann  spruce 
and  limber  pine  and  knowing  on  what  slopes 
these  grew,  I  used  these  guides  and  compasses. 
By  using  these  and  other  reckoners  I  managed 
to  get  down  off  the  mountains,  a  journey  of  per- 
haps twenty  miles,  without  breaking  my  neck 
and  with  little  suffering. 

In  each  state  in  the  Union  there  are  wild 
places  in  which  one  would  be  allowed  to  camp, 
and  in  which  one  would  have  fun  camping.  The 
camper  who  is  a  real  explorer  makes  the  most 
of  each  outing,  will  receive  from  these  experiences 


102         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

the  best  possible  preparation  for  camping  in  the 
wildest  places  on  earth. 

Most  men  and  women,  boys  and  girls,  go 
camping,  just  to  go  camping.  They  have  a  fair 
time.  Others  go  camping  chiefly  because  it 
gives  them  the  opportunity  to  fish  or  hunt  or 
take  pictures.  These  campers  are  certain  to 
have  a  good  time.  As  I  think  of  it  now,  after 
hundreds  of  camping  trips,  I  went  camping 
chiefly  because  I  enjoyed  watching  the  ways  of 
birds  and  the  habits  of  animals.  The  rocks,  the 
trees,  and  the  flowers  caused  me  to  look  at  them 
again  and  again.  So,  too,  did  the  mountain 
tops,  the  canons,  and  the  lakes.  I  enjoyed  win- 
ter camping  as  well  as  summer  camping  and 
camping  on  deserts,  plains,  and  in  the  forested 
mountains.  I  was  ever  excited  to  know  how 
a  plant  or  animal  came  to  be  what  it  is  and 
where  it  is. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    LION    PLAYS    SOFT    PEDAL 

A^  TIMBERLINE  on  Specimen  Moun- 
tain I  came  upon  the  fresh  tracks  of  a 
mountain  lion.  He  had  climbed  a  cor- 
ner of  the  mountain  to  timberline  and  here  could 
look  off  to  right  and  left.  I  followed  his  tracks 
up  the  snowy  slope  to  read  his  story. 

Near  the  summit  the  lion  crouched  for  a  time 
behind  a  low  ridge,  evidently  to  watch  a  number 
of  mountain  sheep  near  by.  While  keeping  out 
of  sight  behind  the  ridge,  he  worked  a  few  hun- 
dred feet  farther  around,  perhaps  toward  a  lone 
sheep. 

Tracks  in  the  snow  showed  that  at  the  oppor- 
tune time  the  lion  leaped  out  and  rushed  between 
a  lone  young  sheep  and  the  flock.  With  an- 
other dash  he  frightened  it  far  down  the  slope 
and  away  from  the  others.  The  many  zigzags 
and  doublings  of  tracks  on  the  mountain  side 
showed  that  the  sheep  had  repeatedly  tried  to 
dash  back  to  the  flock;  but  each  attempt  had 
been  foiled  by  the  lion. 

The  lion  held  the  upper  mountain  slope  and  re- 
103 


io4         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

peatedly  crowded  the  sheep  toward  a  steep  slope 
or  into  a  narrow  gully.  After  cutting  the  sheep 
off  from  help,  the  lion's  game  evidently  was  to 
wear  it  out. 

At  one  point  of  vantage  the  lion  lay  down; 
but  not  for  long.  The  sheep  climbed  a  precipi- 
tous crag  and  made  a  dash  up  the  slope.  It  nar- 
rowly missed  passing  the  lion,  but  was  again 
crowded  down  the  mountain.  After  this  bold 
move  the  sheep's  tracks  indicated  that  it  was 
tiring;  it  made  fewer  dashes,  and  the  lion  crowded 
closer.  Finally,  after  a  few  hours  of  effort,  the 
strategic  lion  crowded  the  sheep  more  than  a 
mile  down  the  snowy  slope  and  leaped  upon  it. 

After  a  feast  the  lion  climbed  a  near-by  cliff 
and  lay  for  some  time.  He  returned  to  his  kill 
for  another  feed;  then,  leaving  the  remains,  edged 
around  the  side  of  the  mountain.  He  came  into 
his  up-going  tracks  at  timberline  a  short  dis- 
tance below  where  I  had  discovered  them.  After 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  the  tracks  were  lost  among 
bare  rocks;  among  these  rocks  he  may  have  had 
a  den. 

Much  that  is  known  concerning  the  character 
of  the  lion  has  been  learned  from  his  tracks; 
he  is  so  watchful  that  rarely  is  he  seen  in  action. 
His  tracks  show  that  he  is  extremely  curious, 
that  he  investigates  many  things  of  no  great 
concern  to  him.  He  constantly  strives,  like  a 


THE  LION  PLAYS  SOFT  PEDAL          105 

scout,  to  keep  out  of  sight,  has  endurance,  usu- 
ally procures  food  by  stealth,  is  easily  frightened 
and  stampeded,  and  is  not  ferocious. 

The  tracks  of  another  lion  kept  me  active 
and  entertained  for  about  fifty  hours.  I  came 
upon  the  tracks  in  a  canon  where  he  had  cap- 
tured a  grouse.  Climbing  out  of  the  canon  the 
lion  walked  along  the  top  of  a  ridge  that  led 
toward  the  summit  of  the  Range.  Near  timber- 
line  another  lion  track  crossed.  On  examination, 
these  cross  tracks  and  those  I  was  following 
proved  to  be  of  the  same  lion.  Had  these  cross 
tracks  been  made  before  or  after  the  ones  I  was 
following  ?  I  could  not  be  certain,  but  concluded 
to  follow  the  cross  tracks  down  the  slope. 

At  one  place  the  lion  had  either  played  with 
a  porcupine  or  had  worried  him.  The  tracks 
showed  that  he  slapped  at  porky,  ran  rings 
around  him,  leaped  over  him,  and  had  a  lively 
time  all  the  way  across  an  opening  which  the 
porky  was  crossing. 

Leaving  the  porky  the  lion  made  his  way 
down  a  willowy  gulch,  keeping  out  of  sight,  and 
headed  straight  for  the  canon  in  which  I  had 
discovered  his  tracks. 

I  followed  the  up-going  tracks  to  where  I  had 
left  them  at  timberline.  After  half  a  mile  these 
swerved  sharply  to  the  right.  The  lion  had 
slipped  up  close  to  the  edge  of  a  cliff  from  which 


io6         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

sheep  often  looked  down  while  sunning  them- 
selves. A  single  old  sheep  had  evidently  re- 
ceived a  message  of  the  lion's  approach  and  had 
leaped  over  and  gone  down  the  slope. 

The  lion  had  then  climbed  up  a  moderately 
steep  trail  toward  the  summit.  After  about  a 
mile  he  met,  or  nearly  met,  another  lion  coming 
down.  This  was  on  a  smooth,  treeless  ridge. 
Each  appeared  to  have  purposely  kept  a  trifle 
to  the  right  of  the  wild-life  trail,  about  fifty 
feet  apart. 

When  opposite  each  other  they  had  turned  and 
faced,  advanced  a  few  steps,  and  sat  down.  The 
one  coming  down  the  slope  appears  to  have 
started  on  first,  for  the  one  I  was  following  had 
turned  as  though  to  look  after  him.  This  may  or 
may  not  have  been  normal  lion  etiquette. 

On  a  wind-swept  place  the  tracks  vanished. 
Half  a  mile  farther  I  found  them.  What  the 
lion  had  done  in  the  interval  is  blank.  But 
on  the  way  up  the  slope  time  after  time  he  came 
up  behind  a  rock  pile  on  the  ridge.  Around  the 
right  side  of  one  he  peered  before  showing  him- 
self, then  on  to  the  next  rock  pile;  always  first 
having  a  look  before  showing  himself,  whether  he 
went  to  the  right  or  left  or  over  the  top. 

Near  the  summit  a  flock  of  mountain  sheep 
had  moved  off  to  the  left  and  then  turned  to 
watch  him  pass.  United  and  with  solid  footing 


THE  LION  PLAYS  SOFT  PEDAL          107 

they  evidently  were  not  afraid  of  the  lion.  Ex- 
cept in  drifts  the  snow  was  not  more  than  a 
foot  deep.  When  the  snow  is  deep  and  crusted 
so  that  sheep  break  through  and  the  lion  does 
not,  then  he  slays  and  slays.  The  lion  is  not 
heavy,  rarely  more  than  one  hundred  pounds, 
is  agile  and  powerful.  His  feet  are  large  and 
soft  and  he  can  readily  get  over  muddy  or  snowy 
places  where  heavier  animals  like  deer  and  sheep 
with  small,  hard  feet,  have  difficulty. 

After  passing  the  sheep  the  lion  went  on  over 
the  top  as  though  planning  to  go  down  the 
other  slope.  But  he  faced  about  and  came 
back  along  his  track  for  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 
Then  turning  off  to  the  right  he  cautiously  made 
his  way  from  crag  to  rock  and  came  close  to  the 
sheep  passed  on  the  summit.  Then  a  detour  of 
half  a  mile  and  he  climbed  on  a  cliff  behind  them. 
From  this  he  could  watch  them  without  being 
scented.  Here  he  appears  to  have  remained 
for  hours.  But  the  sheep  did  not  go  near  any 
point  from  which  he  could  leap  upon  them. 

He  left  them  and  started  down  the  mountain, 
heading  eastward  for  the  upper  end  of  a  gulch 
about  three  miles  distant.  I  climbed  about  for 
a  little  while  then  again  followed  his  tracks. 
The  snow  was  partly  drifted,  and  a  number  of 
old  drifts,  made  up  of  several  snowfalls,  were 
large  and  deep.  On  the  way  down  he  came  upon 


io8         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

a  tuft  of  dwarf  willow  that  was  drifted  under 
and  which  sheltered  a  number  of  ptarmigan.  He 
leaped  upon  this  snowy  tuft,  but  the  birds  es- 
caped. 

Down  in  the  woods  the  snow  was  about  two 
feet  deep  but  on  the  slopes  above  treeline  about 
one  foot.  The  lion  had  followed  along  timber- 
line  for  more  than  a  mile,  keeping  out  of  sight 
behind  the  front  of  dwarfed  spruces  or  willows. 
Here  and  there  he  had  sneaked  up  behind  a  tree 
screen  and  looked  down  into  the  openings  among 
the  scattered  trees.  Finally  he  came  close  to  a 
number  of  sheep  which  were  feeding  or  lying 
down  in  a  place  off  which  the  wind  had  swept 
most  of  the  snow. 

From  this  discovery  point  he  turned  back  for 
a  detour  and  came  in  below  the  sheep.  He 
crept  up  on  a  rock  pile  close  to  them  and  watch- 
fully waited  for  hours.  The  sheep  fed  away 
from  him.  Circling  far  around  he  came  to  a 
tree  clump  toward  which  they  were  feeding. 
But  here  the  sheep  had  evidently  scented  him, 
for  they  had  raced  off  in  alarm,  and  moved  up 
the  long  slope  toward  the  summit  where  the  lion 
had  watched  the  preceding  flock.  The  lion 
followed. 

The  sheep  and  the  lion  were  going  up  as  I 
was  coming  down  and  passed  within  five  or 
six  hundred  feet.  We  were  separated  by  a 


THE  LION  PLAYS  SOFT  PEDAL          109 

low  ridge  and  neither  sheep  nor  lion,  judging 
from  their  tracks,  had  heard  or  scented  me. 
I  had  not  suspected  their  near  presence.  Both 
sheep  and  the  lion  had  travelled  leisurely. 
There  was  nothing  to  indicate  how  closely  the 
lion  had  followed  them,  nor  any  sign  to  indicate 
that  they  knew  they  were  followed. 

I  spent  the  night  at  timberline,  and  the 
following  morning  took  up  the  trail.  A  short 
distance  from  camp  I  came  upon  a  fresh  lion 
track,  one  made  during  the  night.  I  followed 
it.  This  lion  had  crept  up  to  within  twenty 
feet  of  my  camp,  taken  a  long  look,  and  then 
climbed  a  cliff  from  which  she  could  see  me. 
She  hurried  off  the  rear  of  the  cliff  as  I  trailed 
toward  it.  Going  out  on  the  ridge  to  my  tracks  of 
the  evening  before  I  discovered  that  this  second 
lion  had  been  trailing  me — just  how  closely  or 
how  long  was  an  interesting  speculation.  Hop- 
ing to  find  out,  I  set  off  for  the  summit  again. 

Close  to  the  top,  near  where  the  lion  had  lain 
in  wait  for  the  sheep,  I  came  upon  the  track  of 
the  lion  that  was  following  me.  She  had  been 
close.  One  place  where  I  had  lingered  she  had 
cautiously  crept  near.  She  could  have  leaped 
upon  me.  But  had  chance  suddenly  brought 
us  together,  each  probably  would  have  dis- 
figured the  skyline  with  figures  speeding  apart. 

I  returned  to  the  first  lion's  tracks  and  down 


i  io         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

to  where  the  day  before  the  two  lions'  tracks  met. 
Here  I  had  a  glimpse  of  the  lion  I  was  following. 
He  did  not  suspect  my  presence.  And  as  I 
watched  he  made  an  unsuccessful  rush  among 
the  sheep.  Failing,  he  left  them  standing  alert 
on  cliffs,  and  descended  the  slope  with  a  series  of 
plunges,  evidently  making  for  the  woods.  I  did 
not  follow. 

As  this  lion's  tracks  were  about  thirty-six 
hours  old  when  I  first  encountered  them  down  in 
the  gulch,  and  fully  twelve  hours  older  on  the 
ridge  where  the  lion  had  crossed  his  former  trail, 
and  as  I  had  followed  them  for  about  thirty-six 
hours,  I  had  record  of  nearly  three  days  of  lion 
life.  During  this  time  his  entire  food  had  been 
just  one  grouse. 

After  this  first  lion  had  galloped  off  down 
the  slope  I  searched  for  the  tracks  of  the  lion 
following  me.  She  had  found  my  trail  early 
the  day  before,  and  had  been  on  my  trail  for 
perhaps  fifteen  miles  and  for  nearly  twenty  hours. 

I  back-tracked  along  her  trail  to  see  what 
she  had  been  doing  the  day  before.  In  a  stretch 
of  less  than  two  miles  and  perhaps  in  less  than  a 
day's  time  she  had  killed  three  or  four  ptarmigan 
and  three  sheep.  The  sheep  had  been  caught 
while  wallowing  through  a  stretch  of  deep,  half- 
crusted  snow  and  three  of  eight  killed. 

Two  of  these  sheep  were  not  touched  and  the 


THE  LION  PLAYS  SOFT  PEDAL  in 

other  only  partly  eaten.  So  this  lion  following 
me  was  well  fed  and  was  trailing  me  to  amuse 
herself  or  satisfy  her  curiosity.  Still  back- 
tracking her,  I  found  that  the  day  before  this 
big  kill  she  had  killed  two  other  sheep.  Think- 
ing that  she  might  return  to  this  last  kill  for 
another  meal  I  came  back  to  it  the  following 
evening,  but  nothing  had  been  to  the  carcass. 
The  lion  will  return  to  its  kill  if  it  cannot  seize 
another  meal  of  warm  blood. 

The  mountain  lion  is  the  big  game-hog  of  the 
wild.  He  probably  plays  less  than  most  large 
animals  and  seems  to  take  his  relaxation  in  fol- 
lowing people  or  in  killing  game  to  excess.  Many 
careful  hunters  say  that  the  lion  kills  on  the 
average  two  deer  each  week  the  year  round. 
If  he  have  opportunity  to  kill  he  slays  as  long 
as  there  is  anything  within  reach.  I  have 
known  him  to  kill  four  deer  in  a  half  day;  and 
as  he  made  no  use  of  these  he  may  recently 
have  killed  something  else. 

While  crossing  the  Continental  Divide  an- 
other winter  I  came  upon  a  lion  track  and  fol- 
lowed it.  The  lion  had  crossed  from  the  head 
of  a  gulch  on  the  Pacific  slope  directly  to  a  ridge 
above  timberline  on  the  Atlantic  side.  He  did 
not  wander,  and  evidently  was  bound  for  a 
definite  place  down  in  the  woods. 

Coming  upon  the  tracks  of  another  lion,  he 


ii2         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

turned  to  follow  these  to  the  top  of  a  little  ridge 
then  returned  to  his  former  tracks  and  course 
A  quarter  of  a  mile  farther  he  again  turnec 
aside  to  follow  a  lion's  tracks,  this  time  beneath 
an  enormous  wreckage  of  large  rocks.  There 
may  have  been  a  den  somewhere  among  these 
rocks. 

His  tracks  then  descended  to  lower  and  more 
open  territory.  He  had  called  at  a  beaver  pond 
evidently  hoping  for  a  meal  of  beaver,  anc 
climbed  part  way  up  the  willow-covered  house 
and  lain  down.  Through  the  ice  close  to  the 
house  there  was  a  hole  which  the  beavers 
had  kept  gnawed  open,  and  through  which  they 
came  out  for  air  and  to  sun  themselves  on  the 
side  of  the  house. 

Judging  from  the  melting  and  compacting 
of  the  snow,  the  lion  had  remained  on  the 
house  for  hours,  watching  this  ice  hole.  He  hac 
then  gone  off  and  wandered  here  and  there 
through  the  willowy  flat  below  the  beaver  pone 
without  securing  anything.  He  then  returned  to 
the  beaver  dam  at  a  point  where  all  the  outflow 
of  the  pond  had  been  led  through  a  hole  about 
the  size  of  the  average  telephone  pole.  This 
hole  enabled  the  beavers  to  come  out  of  the  ponds 
beneath  the  ice  roof  or  cover  which  was  more 
than  a  foot  thick.  At  this  point  the  lion  had 
tracked  about  as  though  watching  for  a  beaver. 


THE  LION  PLAYS  SOFT  PEDAL          113 

Not  securing  anything  he  returned  to  the 
beaver  house  and  lay  down  in  another  spot. 
Again  he  must  have  waited  and  waited,  pa- 
tiently as  an  Eskimo  by  a  seal  hole. 

A  lion  has  the  capacity  to  lie  long  in  waiting, 
and  I  have  known  of  their  remaining  on  a  low 
cliff,  watchful  and  expectant  of  a  kill,  for  nearly 
thirty  hours.  At  last  a  beaver  had  come  forth, 
but  whether  in  the  daytime  or  at  night  I  could 
not  be  certain.  A  line  of  dim,  muddy  tracks  led 
from  the  hole  and  ended  several  feet  beyond  with 
the  ice  stained  with  blood  and  fur. 

One  autumn  when  I  was  tramping  in  high 
altitudes  I  saw  many  news  stories  in  which  lions 
had  a  part.  Two  cottontail  rabbits  and  one 
snowshoe  had  been  captured  by  the  same  lion 
in  less  than  twenty-four  hours.  A  few  miles 
farther  on  this  lion  came  upon  the  track  of  a 
three-footed  lynx  with  a  bleeding,  broken  fore- 
paw,  as  the  snow  records  fully  showed.  The  lion 
followed  these  tracks  nearly  two  miles  where 
they  entered  a  den.  Here  the  lion  lay  down  to 
watch  and  perhaps  rolled  over  on  his  side  for  a 
snooze.  But  the  cat  had  not  come  out. 

This  same  lion  a  day  or  so  later  had  come 
upon  my  tracks  in  the  edge  of  an  opening.  He 
first  edged  away  from  them  and  walked  entirely 
around  the  opening  and  came  back  to  the  tracks 
near  where  he  had  first  seen  them.  Here  he 


ii4         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

played.  He  crawled  up  close  to  the  tracks,  by 
sneaking  behind  a  willow  clump.  From  behind 
a  big  log  he  leaped  and  landed  by  the  tracks. 
There  was  a  confusion  of  tracks,  as  though  there 
had  been  a  struggle. 

But  all  this  was  make-believe,  for  his  actions 
indicated  that  he  knew  these  tracks  were  associ- 
ated with  human  scent.  As  there  are  only  a 
few  known  cases  of  lions  attacking  humans, 
and  these  probably  by  mentally  deranged  lions, 
this  lion  was  probably  amusing  himself  by  anl 
imaginary  attack  and  fight  with  a  dangerous 
enemy. 

I  was  tracking  a  North  Park  lion  when  the 
tracks  showed  that  the  lion  had  been  suddenly 
alarmed.  He  had  dropped  down,  then  crept 
forward  under  cover  for  a  look.  He  stood  up  to 
listen,  then  made  off  at  high  speed.  He  had 
heard  or  scented  the  lion  dogs  of  a  hunter. 
These  dogs  were  soon  on  his  trail,  and  in  follow- 
ing his  tracks  I  came  to  a  place  where  he  had 
tried  to  throw  the  dogs  off  scent. 

This  lion  was  running  westerly.  It  had  almost 
passed  a  cliff  when  it  stopped  suddenly,  faced 
about,  and  went  back  along  its  trail  for  sixty  orl 
seventy  feet,  then  leaped  upon  a  boulder  and 
from  this  upon  the  side  of  the  cliff  perhaps  eight 
feet  above  its  trail.  From  this  point  it  made  its 
way  around  the  cliff,  climbing  up  some  thirty  or 


THE  LION  PLAYS  SOFT  PEDAL          115 

forty  feet,  and  circling  to  within  fifty  feet  of  its 
former  trail  leaped  off  in  the  snow  and  galloped 
away  toward  the  southeast. 

This  ruse  had  delayed  and  confused  the  dogs 
for  more  than  an  hour.  But  they  had  again 
found  the  trail  and  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
the  lion  had  climbed  a  tree. 

The  fox,  lion,  and  many  other  animals  realize 
that  they  leave  a  tell-tale  scent.  But  the  grizzly 
is  the  only  animal  which  appears  to  know  that  he 
leaves  visible  tracks  which  tell  his  presence  and 
which  reveal  the  direction  he  is  travelling. 

The  following  day,  about  four  miles  from  the 
scene,  I  came  upon  a  lion  track  that  appeared 
comparatively  fresh,  and  along  it  I  trailed  -on 
snowshoes.  These  tracks  led  around  openings 
in  the  woods,  over  cliffs,  and  into  a  canon.  After 
following  them  nearly  all  day  I  came  to  where  they 
were  joined  with  snowshoe  tracks,  which  proved 
to  be  mine  of  the  day  before.  All  day  I  had 
been  trailing  a  dead  lion.  This  did  not  matter,  as 
I  was  only  reading  the  stories  in  the  tracks,  but 
I  had  badly  misjudged  the  age  of  them. 

Another  time  a  lion  track  led  me  along  a  wild- 
life trail  to  the  shelf  of  a  cliff  about  ten  feet  above 
the  snow.  The  trail  was  between  this  cliff  and 
another  rock  about  twenty  feet  away,  but  deep- 
drifted  snow  had  caused  the  trailers  to  edge  close 
to  the  rocks  on  which  a  lion  was  concealed. 


n6          WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

On  the  shelf  he  had  had  a  long  wait.  A  num- 
ber of  mountain  sheep  had  evidently  scented  him 
a  short  distance  before  reaching  the  place  and 
had  turned  out  of  the  trail,  tramped  about,  then 
turned  back. 

But  three  or  four  deer  had  come  along,  and 
one  big  fellow,  all  unsuspecting,  had  stopped  a 
little  below  the  rock.  The  lion  leaped.  His 
compact  appears  to  have  caught  the  deer  off 
balance  and  knocked  him  over.  But  he  regained 
his  feet  with  the  lion  clinging  on,  perhaps  to  the 
top  of  his  neck;  and  again  on  his  feet  the  deer 
leaped  down  the  slope.  The  lion's  shoulder 
crashed  against  the  point  of  a  broken  tree  limb, 
knocking  him  off  into  the  snow.  He  crippled 
slowly  down  into  the  canon,  using  only  one  front 
foot.  Probably  one  shoulder  had  been  broken. 

Coming  upon  tracks  in  the  woods  one  Febru- 
ary, which  showed  a  lion  travelling  leisurely,  I 
followed.  He  kept  almost  a  compass  course 
toward  the  northeast,  down  through  dense  spruce 
woods.  A  sudden  jump  to  one  side,  followed  by 
a  long  wait,  and  evidently  he  had  watched  from 
behind  a  spruce  tree.  Then  he  had  edged  off  to 
the  right,  advancing  cautiously  from  tree  to  tr< 
with  long  pauses  to  look  or  to  use  his  nose  or  ears. 
After  moving  through  nearly  half  a  circle  h< 
suddenly  retreated  one  hundred  feet.  Thei 
another  advance,  and  another  precipitous  retreat. 


I 


q 

5 


Photo  by  Enos  A.  Mills 

Bear  claw  marks  on  aspens 


THE  LION  PLAYS  SOFT  PEDAL          117 

Then  he  returned  to  the  place  where  he  was 
first  alarmed  and  edged  to  the  left,  advancing 
more  rapidly.  After  many  advances,  retreats, 
and  changes  of  course,  he  approached  an  opening 
between  spruces  beneath  which  was  a  bear  den. 
He  paused  here  for  a  moment,  then  went  on  his 
way.  At  the  point  where  he  paused  I  could 
sniff  rank  hibernating  bear  odour  on  the  air. 

After  only  a  few  minutes  along  another  lion's 
tracks  these  were  joined  by  the  tracks  of  a  grizzly. 
A  black  bear  had  crossed  these.  Following  the 
lion's  and  the  grizzly's  trails  less  than  two 
hours  I  came  to  where  the  lion  had  killed  a  colt. 
He  had  eaten  his  fill  and  lain  down,  and  while 
evidently  planning  another  meal  off  the  colt  the 
grizzly  appeared.  The  lion  rushed  up  to  his 
kill.  Toward  him  the  grizzly  had  slowly  ad- 
vanced, without  a  stop.  Evidently  the  lion 
had  struck  at  him,  then  dodged  back  and  stood 
for  a  time  watching  the  bear  feed,  and  offering 
jarring,  jazzing  accompaniments.  Then  the  lion 
had  rushed  the  grizzly,  and  after  two  or  three 
rushes  the  lion  had  been  knocked  sprawling, 
and  on  arising  the  bear  had  flung  him  a  few 
yards  down  the  mountain  side. 

The  lion  lost  his  kill,  but  on  circumstantial 
evidence — the  grizzly  at  the  feast — the  horse 
owner  offered  a  reward  for  the  horse-killing 
grizzly. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

FOLLOWING   A    CONCEALED   TRAIL 

IN  THE  early  morning  a  posse  of  cowboys 
assembled  to  hunt  down  the  fellow  who  had 
stolen  the  foreman's  horse  in  the  night.  The 
thief  was  generally  believed  to  be  Scott  Ashton, 
who,  the  previous  day,  had  robbed  the  bank  at 
Pinyon.  Every  one  of  the  pursuers  was  a  man 
of  worth — a  frontiersman  who  carried  the  law  on 
his  hip. 

But  the  trail  they  followed  showed  that  this 
thief  was  a  master  at  hiding  his  tracks.  He  had 
gone  out  of  one  corral  gate,  then  around  to  the 
opposite  one  and  entirely  around  the  corral  be- 
fore striking  out  westward.  He  had  kept  along- 
side the  road  the  first  mile,  then  ridden  in  it  a 
short  distance,  ana  again  turned  out  in  the 
grass. 

For  several  miles  tnis  road  to  the  west  ran 
through  a  canon,  and  there  was  no  way  of  leav- 
ing it.  Beyond  the  canon,  on  top  of  Tongue 
Mesa,  it  split  into  three  forks.  As  the  thief's 
tracks  were  found  in  the  canon,  and  he  was 
apparently  heading  for  the  mesa,  the  foreman 

i  is 


•  FOLLOWING  A  CONCEALED  TRAIL        119 

directed  all  his  men  to  spur  along  to  the  top  of 
that  elevation. 

A  little  behind  the  others,  carefully  following 
the  trail,  was  George  Moore.  He  did  not  hear 
the  orders.  The  posse  stirring  dust  a  quarter  of 
a  mile  up  the  road,  hearing  two  shots,  came  hur- 
rying back. 

"If  this  thief  is  Scott  Ashton,  who  is  carrying 
$20,000  of  the  insides  of  the  Pinyon  bank,  you 
will  never  catch  up  to  him  unless  you  stick  to 
his  trail/'  said  Moore.  "We  shall  be  lucky  if 
we  are  able  to  follow  it.  He  often  got  away 
from  the  Apaches  by  fooling  them  with  new 
trail  tricks.  He  has  already  doubled  on  us." 

The  men  on  the  San  Pablo  cattle  ranch  in  New 
Mexico  knew  that  George  Moore  was  one  of  the 
best  cowboys  in  the  outfit,  but  no  one  suspected 
that  he  was  one  of  the  best  trailers — a  trail  de- 
tective. 

Knowledge  of  human  nature,  a  wide-awake 
imagination,  experience,  and  peculiar  skill  are 
required  to  make  a  good  trailer.  These  qualifi- 
cations he  must  have  in  order  to  see  through  the 
schemes  of  the  man  who  is  trying  to  get  away. 
With  a  moderate  start  a  skilful  trail  man  will 
readily  escape  from  a  well-equipped  posse  unless 
someone  in  pursuit  knows  the  tricks  and  the 
strategy  of  trailing.  The  cunning  fox  and  the 
grizzly  bear — masters  in  trail  concealing — com- 


120         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

monly  escape  not  so  much  by  their  speed  as  by 
confusing  those  after  them — by  going  in  one 
direction  and  fooling  the  pursuers  into  thinking 
that  they  have  taken  another. 

Moore  had  shown  unusual  interest  in  the 
preparations  as  the  cowboys  hustled  to  be  off 
early  in  pursuit  of  the  thief.  Though  not  one 
of  the  number  selected,  Moore  announced  that 
he  guessed  he  would  go  along.  The  foreman 
said,  "All  right,"  pleasantly  but  with  no  enthu- 
siasm. Inside  of  an  hour,  however,  the  foreman 
and  everyone  in  the  posse  was  taking  orders 
from  Moore. 

After  his  surprising  announcement  that  the 
thief  had  doubled  on  them,  Moore  showed  his 
comrades  where  the  man  had  turned  in  a  rocky 
place  about  two  miles  west  of  the  ranch  and 
had  ridden  back  toward  the  ranch,  keeping  in 
the  grass  some  distance  from  the  road.  As  all 
galloped  along  watching  this  trail,  the  foreman 
ordered  Moore  to  take  charge  of  the  posse. 
Moore  at  once  asked  three  to  drop  out,  leaving 
only  the  foreman  and  one  cowboy. 

Following  the  tracks,  they  found  that  the 
thief  had  ridden  past  the  ranch  and  entered 
the  road  on  a  trot,  continuing  eastward  for 
hours.  He  knew  how  to  make  time  and  yet 
spare  his  horse.  Occasionally  he  travelled  at  a 
walk;  now  and  then  he  galloped  a  short  distance; 


FOLLOWING  A  CONCEALED  TRAIL        121 

but  most  of  the  time  he  went  at  a  trot.  When  a 
horse  is  walking  he  brings  his  front  and  hind  feet 
down  so  that  the  hoof  makes  a  flat,  equally  deep 
impression  all  round.  In  trotting  the  front  feet 
sink  deepest  at  the  toe,  and  in  galloping  they 
strike  deeper  than  the  hind  ones.  In  running, 
both  front  and  hind  feet  strike  hard  and  dig 
deep,  causing  the  dust  to  splash;  or  they  may 
tear  up  and  throw  the  earth. 

After  about  thirty  miles  on  the  main  road,  the 
trail  turned  off  on  a  dim  right-hand  fork.  The 
horse  had  galloped  along  in  the  grass  for  half  a 
mile  or  more.  Moore  sent  the  other  two  men 
down  the  main  road  to  see  if  the  thief  had  come 
back  into  it  farther  on,  while  he  followed  the  trail 
to  the  right.  After  going  a  mile  down  the  main 
road  and  finding  no  tracks,  the  men  returned  to 
Moore.  When  they  came  up  they  found  him 
crawling  along  on  hands  and  knees,  carefully 
feeling  the  faint  tracks  in  the  grass-covered 
earth. 

"That  cuss  has  pulled  the  shoes  off  his  horse," 
he  remarked,  "and  I  am  trying  to  find  which 
way  he  went.  He  has  not  gone  on  in  this  direc- 
tion. The  chances  are  that  he  went  back  to  the 
main  road,  thinking  we  should  not  discover  that 
he  had  pulled  the  horse's  shoes." 

They  started  to  circle  in  order  to  pick  up  the 
trail  where  it  led  off  from  the  confusion  of 


122         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

i 
tracks.     The  thief  had  walked  his  horse  about 

and  back  and  forth,  making  the  ground  as  criss- 
crossed as  he  could.  In  a  minute  the  cowboy 
called:  "I  have  it!"  He  was  a  crack  trailer 
when  it  came  to  following  dim  or  old  trails. 
But  without  experience  in  following  trails  con- 
cealed by  man,  the  tricks  of  the  thief,  as  Moore 
read  them,  greatly  interested  him. 

The  line  of  barefoot  horse  tracks  led  diagonally 
across  a  cactus-covered  stretch  and  came  back 
into  the  main  road  about  two  miles  beyond  the 
forks.  The  trailers  read  the  actions  of  the 
thief  as  they  followed  his  tracks.  After  gallop- 
ing a  few  miles  he  had  slowed  down.  Twice 
he  had  stopped  in  the  road. 

"He  is  up  to  something,"  said  the  foreman. 
"He  probably  wants  to  leave  the  road  at  some 
place,  most  likely,  where  he  can  best  conceal 
his  trail.  It  must  have  been  daylight  when  he 
reached  here." 

From  the  hill  where  he  stopped  last  he  evi- 
dently had  seen  a  herd  of  range  horses  a  mile  or 
two  south  of  the  road.  Out  to  them  he  galloped. 
He  drove  a  number  of  them  back  to  the  road  on 
the  hillside.  The  horses  had  scattered,  a  number 
crossing  to  the  north  side  of  the  road,  then 
wheeling  and  recrossing  to  the  south  side.  Here 
and  there  among  these  many  tracks  the  thief  had 
ridden,  leaving  his  trail  involved  and  indistinct. 


FOLLOWING  A  CONCEALED  TRAIL        123 

Moore  made  no  attempt  to  find  the  trail  here, 
but  with  his  companions  rode  on  beyond  the 
numerous  tracks  and  examined  the  main  road. 
But  the  trail  was  not  in  that  direction,  and  all 
returned  to  the  place  where  the  horse  herd  had 
crossed  the  road.  After  vainly  seeking  a  trail 
on  the  south  of  the  road,  Moore  joined  the  fore- 
man and  the  cowboy  on  the  north.  The  fore- 
man had  found  the  trail  and  had  stopped  to 
adjust  his  saddle  when  Moore  came  up.  Moore 
rode  on  a  short  distance,  then  suddenly  swung 
out  of  the  saddle  and  stopped  to  look  at  some 
tracks.  He  took  off  his  sombrero  and  scratched 
his  head. 

"What  is  it  ?"  called  the  cowboy. 

"The  tracks  of  a  horse  that  appears  to  have 
wings,"  said  Moore.  "Here  a  horse  with  shoes 
on  appears  to  have  alighted,  for  the  tracks  begin 
at  this  place."  Then  after  a  moment's  consid- 
eration he  added:  "That  cuss  has  stopped  and 
put  shoes  on  his  horse — not  the  shoes  he  pulled 
off,  but  another  set.  And  he  has  changed  his 
own  shoes,  too.  He  certainly  is  a  genius  for 
taking  pains." 

At  a  swinging  trot  the  three  trailers  followed 
the  trail  northward  across  the  four  miles  of  mesa. 
The  mountains  rose  steep  and  rocky  beyond  the 
buttes  on  the  mesa's  edge.  The  thief  purposely 
crossed  a  rocky  stretch  between  the  buttes  where 


i24         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

no  telltale  tracks  would  be  left.  Then,  a  short 
distance  beyond,  he  tried  one  of  his  cleverest 
schemes.  He  crossed  a  rocky  stream  at  a  place 
so  rough  that  the  trailers  did  not  follow  in  his 
tracks  but  crossed  a  little  below.  On  the  other 
side  they  found  themselves  in  a  grassy  space  of 
a  few  acres.  Here  they  discovered  the  tracks  of 
two  wandering  horses  that  apparently  had  been 
grazing. 

"Has  this  fellow  been  joined  by  reinforce- 
ments?" asked  the  cowboy. 

The  foreman  turned  to  the  left  and  examined 
the  farther  edge  of  the  grassy  place  to  see  if  a 
single  line  of  tracks  showed  in  that  direction. 
None  were  found.  Moore  swung  out  of  the 
saddle,  tossed  the  bridle  reins  over  his  horse's 
head,  and,  leaving  the  animal  to  graze,  examined 
first  one  line  of  tracks  then  the  other.  He  fol- 
lowed these  through  the  grassy  space,  beyond 
which  they  bore  off  to  the  right  and  crossed  the 
stream. 

Moore  went  downstream  to  the  point  where 
the  thief  had  crossed  in  entering  the  grassy  space. 
After  standing  here  for  a  moment  he  followed 
the  stream  back  to  the  place  where  the  two  graz- 
ing horses  had  crossed.  He  followed  these 
trails  a  short  distance  up  the  hillside  and  then 
went  back  where  they  crossed  the  stream.  He 
was  exploring  upstream  when  the  foreman  and 


FOLLOWING  A  CONCEALED  TRAIL        125 

the  cowboy  came  along.  A  short  distance  from 
where  the  two  trails  crossed  the  stream  Moore 
stopped  and  took  off  his  sombrero.  The  cow- 
boy and  the  foreman,  eager  to  know  what  new 
discovery  had  been  made,  went  to  him,  leading 
his  horse  along  with  their  own  mounts. 

"This  is  too  much  for  me,"  said  the  cowboy. 
"I  can  follow  a  trail  when  most  of  the  tracks  are 
missing,  but  not  one  where  there  are  too  many 
tracks." 

Moore  was  standing  in  a  bushy  growth  of 
young  oaks  when  the  men  came  up.  "This 
kept  me  guessing  for  a  while,"  he  said.  "But 
there  is  his  trail.  Evidently  the  thief  is  heading 
for  Lost  Basin." 

"But  this  is  a  trail  coming  downhill,"  said  the 
cowboy. 

"Yes,"  Moore  agreed,  "the  tracks  are  going 
downhill,  but  the  trail  is  going  up.  Look  closely 
and  you  will  see  that  the  cuss  backed  his  horse 
out  of  the  stream  and  up  to  these  bushes.  In 
the  bushes  he  turned  around.  The  trail  on  the 
other  side  of  the  bushes  leads  uphill." 

"Of  all  the  dime  novels  and  wild  detective 
stories  that  ever  got  into  print,"  said  the  cowboy, 
"this  beats  them  all." 

"But  what  are  the  other  tracks?"  asked  the 
foreman. 

"I  will  show  you  in  a  minute,"  said  Moore. 


126         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

"Look  first  of  all  where  the  horse  was  backed. 
He  scraped  the  earth  and  threw  the  gravel  in  the 
direction  he  was  going.  His  short  steps  show 
that  he  was  going  slowly.  Had  he  been  moving 
slowly  and  moving  toward  the  stream  he  would 
not  have  scraped  the  earth  with  his  feet  nor 
scattered  gravel  about.  The  grass  leans  both 
in  front  and  behind  the  spots  in  which  he  put 
his  feet  down.  This  would  not  have  happened 
had  he  simply  passed  downhill.  When  a  horse 
is  travelling  through  grass,  unless  this  is  more 
than  half  his  height,  it  is  tilted  and  leans  back- 
ward behind  each  footprint.  Let  a  man  walk 
through  the  same  grass  and  it  will  be  pushed  and 
slightly  tilted  forward. 

"What  that  fellow  did  after  crossing  the 
stream  into  the  grassy  space  was  to  ride  through 
the  grass  zigzag,  as  if  allowing  his  horse  to  graze, 
then  came  over  and  crossed  the  stream  again. 
Riding  a  short  distance  up  the  hill,  he  turned 
and  went  down  and  recrossed  the  stream  at  the 
place  where  he  first  crossed  into  the  grassy  space. 
Again  the  horse  zigzagged  through  the  grass  and 
again  crossed  the  stream,  going  up  the  hill,  close 
to  the  first  line  of  tracks.  This  made  it  appear 
as  though  two  grazing  horses  had  come  out  of 
the  grass  and  gone  off  together.  The  third  time 
he  returned  to  the  stream  at  his  first  crossing. 
But  this  time  he  did  not  cross.  To  hide  his  trail 


FOLLOWING  A  CONCEALED  TRAIL       127 

he  followed  upstream  in  the  water  and  finally 
backed  his  horse  out  as  you  know." 

"He  pulled  off  a  mighty  clever  job/'  said  the 
foreman. 

"Yes,"  said  Moore,  "but  it  took  him  longer  to 
do  his  work  than  it  has  us  to  uncover  his  tracks. 
But  now  we  must  get  him.  He  is  not  far  ahead 
and  cannot  possibly  take  the  horse  farther  than 
Lost  Basin.  It  is  too  rocky  and  steep.  Prob- 
ably he  intends  to  camp  in  the  basin  for  a  few 
days  and  then  come  out  after  the  excitement  is 
over.  He  has  concealed  his  trail  so  well  that  he 
will  not  expect  us  to  follow  it  beyond  the  grassy 
space,  and  probably  not  so  far.  As  soon  as  he 
reaches  the  basin  he  is  almost  certain  to  come 
out  on  a  rock  point  to  look  down  and  see  if 
the  coast  is  clear.  He  knows  this  country. 
But  I  know  Scott  Ashton.  This  is  his  trail  all 
right  but  I  guess  it  doesn't  go  much  farther." 

Ashton  sat  on  top  of  a  cliff  more  than  a  thou- 
sand feet  above  and  watched  his  bewildered 
trailers  in  the  grassy  space  below.  Though  out  of 
his  sight  where  they  stood  talking  he  had  covered 
his  trail  so  thoroughly  that  he  felt  no  concern. 

Presently  Moore  said:  "You  fellows  ride  back 
across  the  open  and  for  a  time  keep  out  of  sight 
behind  those  buttes.  Then  come  forward  and 
again  search  all  over  the  region.  Take  plenty  of 
time." 


128         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Reaching  Lost  Basin,  Ashton  had  thrown  off 
the  saddle  and  the  richly  stuffed  saddle  bags. 
He  picketed  the  tired,  hungry  pony  in  the  grass, 
and  then  climbed  to  the  top  of  the  cliff.  He 
had  in  mind  to  camp  in  this  retreat  a  day  or 
two,  then  go  back  down  to  the  road  and  proceed 
where  he  liked.  He  was  eagerly  watching  the 
confused  search  of  the  foreman  and  the  cowboy. 

Moore  came  crawling  along  his  trail.  Then 
the  unexpected  happened.  The  moment  that 
Moore  appeared  the  picketed  pony  greeted  him 
with  a  whinny. 

This  was  warning  enough  for  Scott  Ashton. 
He  scrambled  down  the  opposite  side  of  the  cliff. 
Moore,  anticipating  this  move,  hurried  around 
to  head  him  off.  But  Ashton  had  made  his 
get-away  in  the  woods  and  crags  beyond. 

In  such  a  region,  it  was  suicidal  for  Moore  to 
follow  so  skilful  a  man.  He  went  back  to  the 
horse  and  found  the  $20,000  in  the  saddlebags. 
He  then  fired  two  shots  and  began  slowly  leading 
the  horse  down  the  steep  mountain  side. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    HAPPY-GO-LUCKY    BLACK    BEAR 

ONE  windy  autumn  day  I  sat  in  a  moun- 
tain forest  watching  pine  cones  bouncing 
and  rolling  across  a  steep,  grassy  open- 
ing. A  black  bear  started  across  the  opening. 
A  cone  struck  near  by  and  bounced  high, 
slightly  in  front  of  him.  He  leaped  for  it, 
striking  with  left  forepaw.  Two  other  cones 
dropped,  and  after  these  like  lightning  to  right 
and  left  he  rushed ;  then  came  three  or  four  cones 
at  once.  He  stood  still  and  with  his  eyes  fol- 
lowed one  cone  at  a  time,  watching  the  ones  that 
rolled  farthest.  One  cone  bounded  and  lodged 
in  the  fur  of  his  back.  Lazily  he  turned  to 
look  at  it,  and  more  lazily  reached  around,  trying 
to  get  his  teeth  over  it.  Then  he  ran  in  a  circle 
three  or  four  times,  stopped,  looked  at  the  cone, 
then  circled  again.  He  rolled  over,  picked  up 
the  cone,  dropped  it,  picked  it  up  again,  turned 
to  look  at  the  falling  cones,  then  walked  on  into 
the  woods  with  nothing  on  his  mind. 

The  Indian  has  given  many  an  animal  a  name 
that  is  a  key  to  its  character.     But  he  never  hit 

129 


i3o         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

upon  a  name  for  the  black  bear  better  than  the 
one  given  by  a  white  hunter — the  "Happy  Hooli- 
gan of  the  Woods."  A  million  or  more  false 
stories  have  this  bear  ferociously  chasing  people 
up  trees.  Such  show  of  energy  would  be  too 
much  trouble  for  the  black  bear  and  he  is  in- 
finitely less  dangerous  than  the  old  hen  with 
chicks  and  the  alleged  tame  cow. 

The  American  black  bear  is  a  jolly  loafer  with 
no  evil  intentions;  has  the  care-free  indifference 
exhibited  in  Huckleberry  Finn,  and  many  of  the 
lazy,  mischievous  traits  of  a  boy.  That  rollick- 
ing farce,  "The  Arkansaw  Bear,"  brings  out  bet- 
ter than  any  story  I  know  the  real  character  of 
this  all-American  animal. 

Once  I  saw  a  little  black  bear  in  a  woods  open- 
ing; plainly  he  was  lonesome.  He  did  not  know 
just  what  to  do;  he  was  ready  to  play  and 
there  was  no  one  or  anything  to  play  with.  A 
prickly  porcupine  came  waddling  along  and  the 
bear  followed  after,  trying  hard  to  play  with 
him;  but  porky,  dully,  indifferently,  went  on  into 
the  woods.  The  bear  sat  down,  dog-like,  on 
his  haunches  and  watched  around  for  something 
to  turn  up. 

I  was  watching  a  number  of  mountain  sheep 
with  a  glass  when  a  black  bear  came  out  of  the 
woods  near  by  and  shuffled  along  toward  the 
sheep,  evidently  following  a  wild-life  trail  in 


THE  BLACK  BEAR  13 1 

which  the  sheep  were  standing.  The  sheep 
showed  no  interest  in  the  bear  and  he  none  in 
the  sheep.  Passing  a  ram  that  stood  by  the 
trail,  the  bear,  without  any  warning,  and  with  a 
terrible  bluff,  hurled  himself  at  the  ram.  He 
purposely  fell  short  and  instantly  the  ram  came 
back  with  a  head-on  butt.  The  bear  side- 
stepped sufficiently  to  break  the  force  and  re- 
ceived the  butt  on  his  hip.  Without  an  in- 
crease of  speed  or  without  looking  back  the  bear 
shuffled  on  and  thirty  feet  farther  hurled  him- 
self at  a  stump  with  blows  right  and  left,  as 
though  he  expected  the  stump  to  be  frightened 
out  by  the  roots.  Then  on  he  went  without 
looking  back.  The  black  bear  is  ever  bluffing, 
but  even  though  a  bluff  be  a  ludicrous  failure,  a 
second  later  he  tries  again  with  uncooled  en- 
thusiasm. 

Often  I  have  had  happy  hours  tracking  the 
black  bear.  As  soon  as  the  sky  cleared  one 
morning  after  a  heavy  fall  of  snow,  I  started  for  a 
beaver  colony.  About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
the  cabin  I  came  upon  the  tracks  of  a  young 
black  bear — evidently  a  year-old  cub.  The 
tracks  were  almost  perfect  moulds  of  bear  feet — 
like  bare  human  feet — in  the  wet,  fresh  snow. 
And  the  tracks  were  fresh,  made  since  snow  had 
stopped  falling  half  an  hour  before.  This  was 
too  good  to  miss,  being  so  close  to  a  cub,  so  I 


i3 2         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

followed  the  tracks.  It  might  be  that  the  cub 
was  also  going  to  the  beaver  colony.  Before 
going  on  I  looked  ahead  hoping  to  see  him. 

Following  the  bear's  tracks  they  showed  that 
he  had  seen  a  snowball  rolling  down  the  moun- 
tain side  near  him  and  turned  to  one  side.  The 
scattered  snow  pieces  on  a  steep  place  showed 
that  he  must  have  seen  the  snowball  coming 
down  and  struck  it  while  still  rolling. 

Just  beyond  he  evidently  concluded  to  coast. 
He  climbed  a  few  steps  to  the  top  of  a  steep 
place.  Commonly  when  a  grizzly  coasts  he  sits 
down  in  the  snow  and  pushes  himself  going  with 
a  forepaw.  But  this  young  black  bear  threw 
himself  forward  and  slid  down  on  his  stomach. 

Some  distance  farther  he  had  stopped  to 
play  with  a  willow.  This  had  been  bent  down 
with  wet  snow,  probably  was  just  rising  as  he 
passed,  and  seeing  it  move  he  had  stopped  to 
play  with  it.  He  boxed  it  two  or  three  times, 
then  walked  around  it  as  though  watching  it 
or  expecting  it  to  make  a  jump.  But  it  did  not. 
After  he  started  on  he  did  the  jumping. 

His  tracks  showed  that  he  had  suddenly  made 
a  long  jump  behind  a  willow  clump  and  from 
behind  this  he  had  peeked  around,  first  one  side 
and  then  the  other,  as  he  stood  up  on  hind  feet. 
What  had  frightened  him  ?  Going  in  the  direc- 
tion he  had  been  going  when  he  leaped  behind  the 


THE  BLACK  BEAR  133 

willow,  I  saw  where  a  coyote  had  leaped  among 
dead  pine  limbs  after  a  rabbit;  this  crashing  had 
caused  cub  to  hide  until  he  could  discover  what 
was  happening. 

The  cub,  too,  had  gone  over  to  try  to  discover 
what  had  happened.  But  he  had  circled  nearly 
around  the  danger  point  before  going  to  it. 
The  rabbit  had  escaped  and  the  cub  had  followed 
the  tracks  and  in  two  or  three  places  had  put  his 
nose  down  into  them  to  sniff.  While  about  this 
a  gopher  moving  under  the  snow  had  attracted 
him  and  he  had  walked  slowly,  with  short  steps, 
until  close,  then  leaped  and  struck  with  left 
hand  like  a  man  after  a  grasshopper.  A  few 
drops  of  blood  on  the  snow  showed  that  he  had 
made  a  capture. 

The  cub  had  gone  to  the  beaver  house  and 
climbed  on  top;  here  he  had  clawed  a  few  times 
then  sat  down  dog-like.  Then  he  had  stuck  his 
nose  in  the  snow  on  top  of  the  house  to  find 
out  the  nose-news  from  within,  I  suppose.  As  I 
stood  on  the  house  I  could  see  tracks  of  some- 
thing else  that  led  behind  a  clump  of  pines  about 
fifty  feet  away.  Behind  these  pines  a  coyote  had 
stood  out  of  sight  and,  I  suppose,  watched  the 
cub.  This  coyote  had  only  three  feet.  One  hind 
foot  had  been  off  for  some  time,  for  in  a  few  places 
the  stump  had  touched  and  left  an  impression  in 
the  snow  which  showed  that  it  was  healed. 


134         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Leaving  the  house  top  the  cub  had  gone  into  a 
willowy  place  below  the  beaver  dam.  No  tracks 
came  out  of  the  willows.  I  listened  but  could 
not  hear  anything.  He  probably  was  in  there 
standing  still,  listening,  and  wondering  which 
way  I  would  go  next.  As  I  stood  there  a  number 
of  magpies  in  flying  over  the  willows  suddenly 
turned  and  alighted.  They  leaned  forward  to 
watch  something.  I  imagined  it  might  be  the  cub, 
possibly  quietly  digging  out  a  mouse.  I  threw 
a  stone  which  started  a  rush>  followed  by  a  line 
of  willows  scattering  their  snow  as  they  were  flung 
right  and  left.  Presently  on  the  mountain  side 
the  cub  rushed  out  on  the  gallop.  He  stopped 
for  one  look  and  then  crashed  into  a  pine  thicket. 
Back  toward  home  I  started,  planning  the  following 
morning  to  back-track  the  cub  and  find  out  from 
the  snow  where  he  had  spent  the  preceding  night. 

The  black  bear  has  more  boy-like  character- 
istics than  any  animal  that  I  know.  Like  a  boy, 
he  has  marked  possibilities.  Unfortunately,  most 
bears  in  contact  with  people  have  been  ruined  by 
nagging  and  teasing.  But  I  know  of  a  few  black 
bear  pets  that  have  been  kindly  treated  and  they 
responded  nobly;  they  showed  alertness,  kindness, 
and  loyalty. 

At  the  Lake  Hotel,  Yellowstone  National 
Park,  a  few  years  ago  Mrs.  George  Frederick 
Diehl  was  nicknamed  the  "Bear  Tamer"  by  the 


THE  BLACK  BEAR  135 

guests,  because  of  the  intimacy  that  was  estab- 
lished between  the  bears  and  Mrs.  Diehl.  She 
was  uniformly  calm,  not  a  bit  afraid  of  the  bears, 
and  exceptionally  fond  of  them.  This  combina- 
tion won  their  friendship.  One  of  them  fol- 
lowed her  about  eagerly  and  with  the  trust  and 
devotion  of  a  dog.  All  the  bears  of  the  locality 
were  on  their  best  behaviour  in  her  presence. 

The  black  bear  has  been  exterminated  over 
most  of  his  former  territory,  but  as,  in  most  lo- 
calities, he  is  a  good  mouser  and  has  an  economic 
standing  in  the  realm  of  biology,  wild-life  con- 
servationists in  a  number  of  states  are  urging  a 
closed  season  to  prevent  complete  extermination. 

The  black  bear,  Ursus  americanus,  originally 
was  found  over  the  greater  part  of  North  Amer- 
ica. He  shows  slight  variations,  but  his  charac- 
teristics are  everywhere  essentially  the  same. 
Everywhere,  I  think,  he  is  a  skilful  tree  climber, 
using  trees  so  much  that  he  might  be  called  a 
perching  quadruped.  But  he  is  a  good  swimmer. 
He  eats  anything  that  is  edible,  except  human 
flesh,  and  though  fond  of  honey,  many  a  bear 
probably  dies  without  ever  knowing  what  it  is. 
As  to  colour,  in  many  localities  most  black  bears 
are  brown  or  cinnamon,  and  judged  by  the  colour 
test  no  one  but  an  expert  could  tell  a  black 
from  a  grizzly. 


CHAPTER  X 

A    COLLIE    IN   THE    DESERT 

TOO  bad,  Jack,  but  no  one  wants  you  and  I 
can't  take  care  of  you,"  said  the  express 
agent  as  he  dumped  a  shaggy  brown 
puppy  out  of  a  crate  into  the  street. 

Jack  simply  sat  for  a  while.  There  was 
nothing  for  a  full-blooded  collie  to  do.  No  one 
gave  orders.  Jack  had  never  been  away  from 
his  kennel  until  bought,  crated,  and  shipped  to 
this  Arizona  village.  He  was  a  stranger  in  a 
strange  land.  Two  moth-eaten  Mexican  dogs 
snarled  at  him.  A  boy  in  passing  threw  a  tin 
can  at  him;  he  dodged  and  ran  to  a  burro; 
the  burro  chased  and  endeavoured  to  stamp 
him. 

I  glanced  at  the  address  on  the  crate  and 
then  asked  the  agent,  "Who  is  George  Rogers?" 

"George  Rogers  was  sent  West  to  reform  his 
health  and  his  manners.  But  George  did  not 
reform  his  manners  and  when  his  mother  shipped 
him  a  collie  puppy  he  refused  to  remove  it  from 
the  express  office.  I  have  cared  for  the  puppy 
Jack  for  a  few  weeks,  hoping  to  give  him  away. 

136 


A  COLLIE  IN  THE  DESERT  137 

But  as  no  one  wants  him  and  as  I  can't  keep  him 
he'll  have  to  shift  for  himself,"  said  the  agent. 

Very  strangely  the  life  and  the  country  must 
have  struck  Jack  if  he  inherited  memories  of 
sheep,  or  of  friendly,  intimate  association  with 
man.  Perhaps,  too,  he  had  memories  of  the 
misty  climate  of  the  Highlands  when  he  looked 
out  on  the  Arizona  landscape  of  forests,  moun- 
tains, and  green  valleys  and  the  wide  stretches 
of  desert  sand,  picturesque  cactus,  and  lonesome, 
sand-blown  distances. 

For  several  days  the  collie  had  only  the  scraps 
rejected  or  overlooked  by  the  Mexican  dogs. 
Finally  he  learned  the  places  where  scanty  bits 
of  food  might  possibly  be  found,  and  by  being 
vigilant  sometimes  satisfied  his  hunger.  He  soon 
learned  the  ways  of  Mexican  dogs,  burros,  and 
people.  He  went  close  to  buildings  only  when 
searching  for  something  to  eat. 

Day  and  night  he  kept  to  himself.  He  never 
went  around  the  adobe  houses  where  there  were 
Mexican  dogs.  He  usually  lay  daytime  where 
he  could  look  down  the  narrow,  cluttered  street 
and  off  beyond  where  the  road  led  into  the 
woods. 

Two  years  afterward  I  came  upon  Jack  on 
the  outskirts  of  this  Arizona  village  as  he  lay 
watching  a  number  of  goats  near  by.  He  was 
ready  to  take  charge  of  the  herd,  to  guard  or  to 


138         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

drive  it.  He  appeared  to  think  that  something 
ought  to  be  done  but  he  did  not  know  what  and 
no  one  came  to  tell  him. 

I  sat  and  watched  him  for  a  long  time.  Ex- 
cept for  a  mere  glance  which  told  me  that  he 
knew  of  my  presence,  he  paid  no  attention.  The 
goats  moved  much  nearer  me  and  when  Jack 
eagerly  rose  to  follow  them  I  spoke  to  him.  He 
came  close  and  lay  down  and  looked  far  away  to 
the  horizon.  Presently  he  came  closer;  at  last 
he  stood  by  my  side  and  allowed  me  to  pet  him. 
There  was  a  show  of  satisfaction  but  further 
than  this  no  response. 

This  collie  was  no  one's  dog.  He  had  never 
had  a  home  and  no  longer  seemed  to  miss  one, 
but  he  was  lost  without  work  to  do.  Through- 
out his  strange  life  he  appeared  to  be  ever  in 
search  of  a  flock  of  sheep  and  a  master  to  direct 
him.  Often  he  was  seen  to  approach  a  lone  cow 
or  stray  pig  as  though  with  a  definite  object  in 
mind.  But  he  never  did  more  than  to  lie  near, 
watching  them.  Thrust  into  an  unfortunate  en- 
vironment, without  a  master,  without  any  work 
or  responsibility  or  any  training,  he  simply  grew 
up.  He  never  had  the  chance  to  be  the  most 
that  he  was  capable  of,  but  perhaps  he  was  better 
off  than  the  other  dogs  of  the  town,  for  he  was 
more  wide-awake  and  more  courageous.  An  ordi- 
nary cur  dog  will  not  seriously  miss  a  master, 


A  COLLIE  IN  THE  DESERT  139 

but  Jack,  with  generations  of  development  and 
intimate  association  with  man  behind  him, 
needed  direction,  and  without  a  master  was  alone 
in  a  lonely  world. 

One  day  a  number  of  town  loafers  tried  to  lead 
Jack  into  the  Mexican  quarter  of  the  village, 
in  the  hope  of  enticing  him  down  the  length  of 
this  narrow,  noisy  street.  They  wanted  to 
watch  the  Mexican  dogs  chew  him  up.  The 
street  ran  between  two  rows  of  squatty,  ancient, 
dirty  adobes,  and  was  overrun  with  cur  dogs 
that  barked  and  snarled  incessantly.  When  a 
lone  stranger  ventured  into  this  quarter  the 
Mexican  dogs  noisily  mobilized  for  mass  attacks, 
and  lucky  was  he  if  he  escaped  without  nipped 
legs  and  torn  trousers.  Any  stray  dog  who 
wandered  here  was  assailed  by  this  riotous  pack 
whose  individuals  were  scattered  from  one  end 
of  the  street  to  the  other. 

But  Jack  walked  down  the  length  of  the 
street  with  proud,  masterful  carriage,  conscious 
of  his  superiority.  He  was  not  in  the  least 
embarrassed  or  intimidated,  and  neither  was  he 
especially  interested  in  anything.  He  took  in  at 
one  glance  the  savage  mongrel  populace  and 
radiated  contempt  for  all  the  cur  dogs  of  the 
earth.  Barking  ceased.  The  dogs  dropped 
heads  and  tails;  many  slunk  out  of  the  way. 
They  were  curs  and  felt  that  he  knew  it;  he  was 


140         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

their  superior  and  knew  that  they  felt  it.  After- 
ward, whenever  he  honoured  the  Mexican  quar- 
ter with  his  presence,  the  dogs  fawned  on  him 
and  toadied  to  him.  But  Jack  paid  them  not  the 
slightest  attention.  From  his  manner  it  would 
have  been  suggested  that  their  presence  was  un- 
known to  him. 

No  one  in  the  village  appeared  to  have  made 
any  friendly  advances.  I  was  told  that  Jack's 
tracks  in  the  dusty  road  frequently  revealed 
that  he  wandered  off  at  night.  He  was  often 
known  to  have  gone  fifteen  or  twenty  miles. 

After  more  than  two  years  of  this  indifferent 
life  he  was  seen  travelling  away  from  town  as 
though  he  knew  where  he  was  going.  Evidently 
he  had  to  be  active,  and  perhaps,  too,  he  needed 
companionship — either  of  man  or  beast.  Jack 
was  gone  in  the  wilds  for  several  weeks.  Being 
the  only  collie  in  the  Arizona  town  everyone 
noticed  and  discussed  his  absence.  But  no  one 
searched  for  him. 

He  spent  much  of  the  time  in  the  wilds,  but 
occasionally  returned  to  the  village  for  longer  or 
shorter  stays.  In  one  of  these  visits  he  was  at- 
tracted to  a  woman  who  had  recently  come  to 
Arizona  and  built  a  house  on  the  mountain  side 
about  a  mile  from  town.  Starting  home  alone 
one  night  just  at  dark  she  was  pleased  to  dis- 
cover Jack  following  her.  She  spoke  to  him. 


A  COLLIE  IN  THE  DESERT  141 

He  was  inclined  to  be  friendly  but  declined  to  be 
petted.  He  walked  close  behind  her  until  a 
man  appeared  in  the  trail  ahead.  Then  Jack 
took  the  lead.  When  they  were  met  by  the 
woman's  husband  Jack  paused  for  a  moment  as 
though  to  assure  himself  that  she  was  well  pro- 
tected then  trotted  back  down  the  trail. 

The  following  day  Mrs.  Helm  sought  out 
Jack.  He  was  excited  and  pleased  with  her 
attention  and  easily  persuaded  to  go  home  with 
her.  He  received  every  attention  and  kindness 
but  his  life  here  did  not  fit  his  instincts.  He  never 
quite  got  used  to  being  fed,  and  each  time  showed 
surprise.  He  had  inherited  the  desire  to  serve 
but  here  he  was  served  and  treated  almost  like  a 
toy  dog.  He  did  not  have  the  opportunity  to  do 
anything,  and  he  was  capable  of  some  big  thing. 

Jack  was  with  Mrs.  Helm  only  a  short  time 
when  she  moved  to  another  town,  taking  him 
with  her.  But  a  few  weeks  later  she  was  called 
East  and  left  hurriedly.  She  remembered  to 
plan  for  his  welfare  but  the  woman  who  was  to 
care  for  him  until  her  return  suddenly  died  and 
again  Jack  was  homeless  and  adrift. 

He  was  seen  with  the  coyotes  miles  from  town, 
and  in  a  territory  more  than  one  hundred  miles 
from  a  region  where  I  saw  him  three  or  four 
years  later.  He  apparently  took  up  his  life 
with  the  coyotes.  Little  is  known  of  his  life 


i42         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

with  them,  except  that  wherever  he  went  they 
appear  to  have  accepted  him  as  their  leader, 
acknowledged  his  mental  and  physical  superi- 
ority, and  looked  upon  him  with  awe  and  admi- 
ration. Doubtless  he  asserted  authority,  and 
they  may  have  revered  him  for  his  mastership. 

The  desert  exacts  many  unusual  actions  from 
the  life  in  its  borders.  The  desert  coyote  from 
long  life  in  these  exacting  scenes  has  become  as 
clever  as  a  fox  and  as  durable  and  successful 
as  the  cactus  and  the  sage  among  which  he  lives. 
He  receives  the  cloud-bursts  and  the  deadly  des- 
ert dust  storm.  He  ranges  over  an  empire, 
knows  its  resources  and  the  few  wet  spots  that  it 
affords.  Most  of  the  time  the  desert  is  ex- 
tremely dry  and  the  water  holes  and  springs 
long  distances  apart.  In  many  places  the  only 
water  is  salty  or  alkaline  and  too  often  polluted 
with  dead  snakes  or  rabbits  or  other  life  that 
died  in  the  water  or  by  it. 

Many  desert  animals  have  developed  the 
ability  to  go  long  periods  without  water.  Desert 
antelope  and  sheep  may  not  drink  for  a  week. 
The  camel  and  possibly  one  or  two  other  ani- 
mals have  extra  water  reservoirs  by  the  stomach, 
but  most  desert  animals  do  not  have  this  equip- 
ment. They  are,  however,  able  to  do  with  but 
little  water;  perhaps  one  of  the  ways  that  enable 
them  to  survive  with  scanty  water  is  that  they 


A  COLLIE  IN  THE  DESERT  143 

do  not  perspire.  This  is  a  saving,  for  many  per- 
spiring animals  throw  off  one  or  more  gallons  of 
water  each  day. 

Jack  had  the  ability  to  adjust  himself  to  con- 
ditions as  they  were  and  with  these  to  succeed. 
The  extreme  trial  for  him  must  have  been  to 
stand  the  dust  and  the  scarcity  of  water.  He  may 
have  found  it  trying,  too,  to  sustain  himself  on 
the  desert,  for  the  food  of  a  desert  coyote  consists 
of  birds,  snakes,  horned  toads,  an  occasional 
taste  of  antelope  or  mountain  sheep,  the  choice 
cuts  of  cactus,  and  all  desert  plants. 

After  Jack's  troubled  puppyhood  the  life  of  a 
desert  coyote  may  have  been  pleasant  for  him. 
Coyotes  commonly  mate  for  life  and  generally 
they  ramble  about  in  pairs.  But  occasionally 
either  for  fun  or  from  necessity  they  collect 
and  move  about  in  numbers,  and  usually  under 
the  command  of  a  leader.  At  any  rate,  Jack 
met  the  exacting  requirements  of  the  desert 
and  won  the  highest  distinction  of  a  coyote 
pack — that  of  leadership.  Of  course  he  won 
this  through  sheer  force  of  character. 

Either  not  quite  content  in  his  wild  life,  or  else 
having  a  vague  idea  that  he  might  find  a  master 
and  a  flock,  Jack  returned  to  the  village.  But 
he  was  restless  and  lingered  only  a  few  days. 
Then  he  wandered  off  again  and  cast  his  lot 
with  the  coyotes. 


H4         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

While  studying  the  plant  life  and  the  geology 
of  Arizona,  a  year  or  two  later,  I  came  upon 
Jack  near  Grand  Canon.  In  walking  across 
the  desert,  two  coyotes,  as  I  supposed,  crossed 
the  trail  in  front  of  me.  But  as  they  speeded 
away  the  footwork  of  one  of  them  lacked  the 
deftness  and  lightness  characteristic  of  the 
movement  of  the  coyote.  Also,  his  tail  was  held 
too  high  and  was  too  much  curled  for  the  tail  of 
a  coyote.  It  must  be  the  collie,  Jack,  I  decided. 

Jack  had  reverted  to  wild-dog  life  in  the 
desert  with  the  coyotes.  As  he  and  his  mate 
moved  off  they  were  joined  by  a  coyote  who 
made  a  number  of  fawning  attempts  to  play  with 
him.  But  the  newcomer  was  completely  ig- 
nored by  this  large,  aristocratic  fellow.  The 
last  view  that  I  had  of  this  pair  revealed  the  col- 
lie of  the  desert  standing  with  his  coyote  mate 
near  a  solitary  tree  cactus  on  the  dreary  desert 
rim. 

That  night  the  air  was  marvellously  clear. 
Stars,  rank  above  rank,  filled  to  vast  depth  that 
wondrous  Arizona  sky.  I  sat  with  a  cowboy 
by  his  camp-fire,  listening  to  the  varied  voices  of 
the  coyotes.  A  number  were  signalling,  and 
occasionally  the  multitudinous  efforts  of  one 
of  these  desert  ventriloquists  were  followed 
by  the  merry  and  derisive  laughter  of  the  listen- 
ing coyotes.  Two  or  three  times  a  lone  and 


A  COLLIE  IN  THE  DESERT  145 

commanding  collie  voice  rose  above  the  concert 
and  brought  a  listening  silence  to  the  night. 
The  cowboy  told  me  that  Jack  had  been  living 
with  the  coyotes  of  this  locality  most  of  the  time 
for  a  number  of  years,  and  that  he  had  seen  inter- 
esting glimpses  of  the  dog's  curious,  misfit 
life. 

While  circling  the  scattered  herd  one  day  the 
cowboy  had  come  upon  five  or  six  young  calves, 
separated  from  the  herd.  A  coyote  and  the 
collie  came  along  without  seeing  him.  The 
collie  stopped  and  walked  about  the  calves  as 
though  personally  interested.  The  coyote 
watched  Jack,  plainly  puzzled.  Jack,  too,  was 
puzzled.  His  instincts  probably  called  him  to 
duty,  yet  just  what  this  duty  was  apparently  was 
not  clear  to  him.  I  judge  that  his  mental  proc- 
esses must  have  been:  "Here  are  stray  calves. 
It  seems  to  me  I  ought  to  do  something  with 
them,  but  what  ?"  Apparently  he  was  confused, 
and  finally  lay  down  and  watched  the  calves  for  a 
long  time.  At  last  he  slunk  away  as  though  con- 
scious of  being  unfaithful  to  a  trust  or  shirking 
a  duty.  He  turned  to  look  back  several  times, 
always  as  though  he  was  ashamed  to  have  left 
the  calves  and  half  inclined  to  go  back  to  guard 
them. 

Once  Jack  and  a  coyote  came  upon  a  sheep 
herder.  On  seeing  the  flock  and  the  herder 


146         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Jack  became  excited.  He  watched  them  for  a 
few  seconds  and  then  hurried  eagerly  toward 
them.  The  coyote  skulked  near.  The  herder, 
thinking  it  was  a  cunning  coyote  trick  to  stam- 
pede his  flock,  fired  at  Jack.  For  a  moment  the 
collie  stood  still,  baffled,  and,  I  suppose,  dis- 
couraged, and  then  retreated.  The  astonished 
herder  looked  after  him  and  finally  concluded 
that  this  must  be  the  oft-heard-of  collie  of  the 
desert. 

The  sheep  herder  had  seen  Jack  a  number  of 
times  near  his  flock.  The  first  time  Jack  was 
watching  a  mirage,  apparently  of  moving  ob- 
jects resembling  cattle.  At  these  Jack  was  look- 
ing all  absorbed  and  did  not  see  the  close 
approach  of  the  herder.  The  herder  having  once 
seen  him  noticed  him  later  as  he  came  to  watch 
the  flock  from  some  distance  off. 

Apparently  Jack  was  often  searching  for  a 
master  or  looking  for  a  flock.  Now  and  then  he 
was  seen  or  heard.  At  times  a  collie  howl  rang 
out  over  the  desert  at  twilight;  again  Jack  was 
the  royal  one  among  a  number  of  admiring 
coyotes. 

I  have  often  wondered  concerning  the  un- 
known adventures  of  Jack  as  king  of  the  coyotes. 
While  with  a  prospector  making  a  night  move  to 
the  next  water  hole  with  his  burros,  a  collie- 
coyote  cry  rang  out  strangely  over  the  wide, 


A  COLLIE  IN  THE  DESERT  147 

weird  desert.  Morning  was  rushing  up  red  into 
the  east — a  flare  of  coloured  light  in  the  desert's 
coppery,  sullen  sky.  The  cry  was  repeated — 
neither  a  bark  nor  a  howl — but  suggestive  of 
both.  Before  us  on  a  low  and  lonely  butte 
stood  a  collie  with  pointed  nose  against  the 
brightening  sky. 

When  Mrs.  Helm,  who  had  kept  Jack  for  a 
time,  returned  to  the  West  no  trace  of  him  could 
be  found.  She  offered  a  reward,  but  the  dog 
could  not  be  located.  She  went  to  the  town 
where  she  had  first  seen  him.  While  there  she 
heard  stories  of  his  restlessness  and  of  his  appar- 
ent desire  for  definite  work  to  do,  of  his  interest  in 
cattle,  and  especially  of  his  repeated  attentions 
and  interest  in  a  sheep  flock  of  a  far-distant 
ranch.  While  she  was  away  Jack  appeared  at 
her  home  in  the  other  city.  He  awaited  her 
coming. 

As  soon  as  she  returned  home  she  made  haste 
to  take  Jack  out  with  her  to  a  sheep  ranch  for  a 
few  days.  Jack  enjoyed  the  work  and  the  life. 
Plainly  he  was  happy.  For  the  first  time  he  had 
something  definite  to  do,  and  he  quickly  learned 
how  to  do  it.  Mrs.  Helm  concluded  to  buy  the 
sheep  ranch  for  Jack. 

The  ranch  was  owned  by  the  express  agent  in 
the  town  where  she  had  formerly  lived.  She 
sent  for  him. 


148         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

As  they  stood  watching  Jack  in  the  distance 
the  agent  told  Mrs.  Helm  of  his  own  unfortunate 
part  in  Jack's  puppy  life.  And  then  for  the 
first  time  she  realized  that  Jack  was  the  little 
collie  she  had  sent  West  for  her  son. 


CHAPTER  XI 

A   WILD   THOROUGHBRED 

THERE  were  no  claimants  at  the  Bar 
"J"  Ranch  for  the  honour  of  breaking 
Black  Diamond  on  "  Bucking  Day,"  as 
the  day  before  the  semi-annual  round-up  was 
called.  The  saddle  horses  had  been  assigned  to 
the  cowboys  to  be  broken  and  made  ready  for 
the  round-up.  . 

It  was  noon.  The  morning  had  been  filled 
with  broncho-busting  excitement.  Numbers  of 
bronchos,  full  of  cussedness,  full  of  fight  and 
vitality,  were  eager  to  revenge  old  scores,  and 
fought  their  riders  at  every  point.  Hardened  by 
cruelty,  wise  with  experience,  they  were  deter- 
mined not  to  be  ridden.  They  were  seemingly 
unconquerable. 

Three  of  the  boys  had  been  tossed,  and  there 
was  a  lively  battle  of  raillery  and  jest  as  they 
collected  outside  the  ranch  house  waiting  for 
dinner. 

As  a  tall,  long-stepping  fellow  came  slouching 
up  to  the  group,  there  was  a  suppressed  snicker. 
To  the  cowboys  he  had  that  superior,  self- 

149 


ISO         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

confident  air  which  proclaims  the  tenderfoot. 
In  addition  to  this,  his  extra  tall,  swaying  figure 
struck  them  like  the  appearance  of  a  caricature 
or  a  clown.  But  appearances  aside,  to  arrive 
"on  foot"  is  the  surest  way  in  cowboy  land  to 
be  received  with  ridicule. 

When  dust-covered  Sam  Davis  asked  for  a 
job,  this  was  too  much  for  the  cowboys.  There 
was  sudden  silence  in  the  aggressive,  noisy  rail- 
lery. No  one  knew  who  he  was,  and,  true  to  the 
frontier,  no  one  cared.  But  their  curiosity  was 
aroused  as  to  what  he  might  be.  He  probably 
was  a  farmer,  although  he  might  be  a  section 
hand  or  a  "mule  skinner/''  But  the  foreman  was 
short-handed  and  willing  to  take  any  one  on. 

"Can  you  ride?"  the  foreman  asked. 

"I  guess  I  might,"  came  the  drawled  answer. 
"I  remember  once  of  being  on  a  horse,  when  I 
had  to  ride  bareback  and  chase  a  herd  of  stray 
cattle  out  of  Dad's  cornfield." 

"Have  you  a  saddle?"  interrupted  the  fore- 
man. 

"Naw,  I  ain't  got  no  saddle.  Do  you  haft  to 
have  a  saddle?"  There  were  loud  guffaws  from 
the  seventeen  cowboys. 

Plainly  annoyed  at  Sam's  extreme  greenness 
and  tedious  slowness  of  speech,  the  foreman 
replied,  "Well,  throw  your  feet  under  the  table 
and  have  a  feed.  Then  we  will  fix  you  out." 


A  WILD  THOROUGHBRED  151 

When  Black  Diamond  was  unloaded  at  the 
Bar  "J"  Ranch  he  was  a  handsome  animal  of 
perhaps  seven  summers,  and  with  seven  devils 
of  activity  and  endurance.  The  blind,  brutal 
methods  of  men  in  trying  to  break  him  had  not 
subdued  him,  nor  maddened  him.  Of  the  nearly 
four  hundred  saddle  ponies  on  the  ranch  he  was 
not  only  the  finest  looking,  but  probably  had 
the  most  horse  sense.  But  he  was  almost  at 
the  point  of  "looking  for  trouble."  To  appre- 
ciate him,  you  must  know  of  his  history — his 
past.  In  him  we  have  a  real  horse  whose  career 
reads  like  strange  fiction. 

For  three  years  the  Butte  Springs  outfit  had 
tried  to  capture  Black  Diamond — a  black  horse 
with  a  shining  white  star  in  his  forehead.  But 
proudly,  defiantly,  he  still  ran  wild  in  the  Great 
Basin.  These  cowboy-trained  wild-horse  hunt- 
ers of  Nevada  had  an  exciting  and  an  exacting 
occupation.  They  were  just  about  one  hundred 
per  cent,  efficient.  And  they  needed  to  be,  for 
the  least  desirable  broncho  which  they  cap- 
tured had  endurance  and  alertness  and  was 
exceedingly  capable  in  taking  care  of  himself. 
Many  of  these  horses  long  succeeded  in  keeping 
beyond  the  reach  of  a  rope,  and  were  wary 
enough  to  detect  the  most  skilfully  placed  and 
thoroughly  camouflaged  corral. 

Everything  that  can  be  said  for  any  thorough- 


152         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

bred  horse  in  the  way  of  grace  of  line,  of  colour, 
of  ease  of  action,  of  pride  and  head  poise,  could 
be  said  of  Black  Diamond.  In  addition,  he  had 
exceptional  endurance  and  alertness.  After  all, 
he  was  a  thoroughbred — a  full-blooded  Arabian. 
The  Spanish  conquerors  of  Mexico  had  brought 
in  a  number  of  thoroughbred  Arabian  horses. 
A  few  escaped  and  quickly  produced  herds  of 
wild  horses.  They  scattered  northward  and 
were  assisted  in  rapid,  wider  distribution  by  the 
Indians.  In  a  few  decades  there  were  thousands 
of  wild  horses  in  the  Southwest. 

These  horses  possessed  all  the  good  qualities 
of  the  original  stock  plus  the  additional  devel- 
opment of  a  peculiar  environment.  The  grasses 
of  the  plateaus  were  nourishing  the  year  round. 
The  high  altitude  gave  increased  lung  develop- 
ment. There  were  carnivorous  animal  enemies 
and  trying  weather  conditions  which  exacted 
great  physical  endurance  and  mental  alertness. 
These  horses  may  be  said  to  have  been  raised 
under  conditions,  though  different,  as  helpful  for 
best  results  as  man  could  have  given  them. 
Black  Diamond  had  generations  of  these  Nature- 
trained  horses  behind  him,  and  possessed  the 
transmitted  triumphant  traits. 

The  first  drive  for  Black  Diamond  brought  in 
sixty  wild  horses.  Before  they  could  be  cor- 
ralled, Black  Diamond  broke  away  and  led  all 


A  WILD  THOROUGHBRED  153 

but  a  few  into  the  freedom  of  the  wilds  again. 
On  the  second  drive,  he  was  the  only  horse  to 
escape.  The  following  year  additional  help  was 
recruited  for  a  big,  final  drive.  The  morale  of 
the  cowboys  in  the  drive  was "  the  best.  The 
horses  were  to  be  driven  up  into  a  broad  canon. 
A  cliff  blocked  the  upper  end  and  formed  one  side 
of  a  corral.  A  short  stretch  of  fence  barred  one 
possible  outlet  and  a  deeply  eroded,  dry  gully 
prevented  escape  on  another  side.  The  cow- 
boys trusted  themselves  to  hold  the  narrow 
entrance  behind  the  horses  if  they  succeeded  in 
getting  them  into  the  corral. 

About  thirty  horses  came  galloping  over  the 
alkali  stretches,  tossing  their  tangled  manes, 
Black  Diamond  leading.  The  cowboys  hurried 
up  from  three  points  of  the  compass  to  run 
them  into  the  corral.  In  they  dashed.  Black 
Diamond  discovered  the  trap  and  like  light- 
ning wheeled  to  escape.  He  avoided  the  cow- 
boys and  daringly  sought  escape  across  the  gully. 

In  the  lower  end  the  gully  split  up  into  three 
branches  with  narrow,  island-like,  steep-walled 
bits  of  earth  between.  These  tongue-like  islands 
stood  from  ten  to  fifteen  feet  above  the  bottom 
of  the  gully.  With  a  vigorous,  picturesque  leap 
Black  Diamond  cleared  the  first  gully,  landed 
on  an  island  in  safety,  and  then  cleared  the 
second.  Racing  along  this  narrow,  tongue-like 


154         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

stretch  to  its  narrowest  separation  from  the  main- 
land, he  made  a  splendid  leap  and  cleared  the 
third  gully. 

But  the  bank  where  Black  Diamond  landed 
was  undermined  and  the  jar  of  his  landing  caused 
it  to  collapse  beneath  him.  He  rolled  into  the 
gully  fifteen  feet  below.  But  on  his  feet  in  a 
flash,  rearing  up  almost  vertically  on  hind  legs, 
he  reached  up  like  a  goat  and  climbed  the  nearly 
vertical,  crumbling  wall.  Just  as  he  gained  the 
solid  earth  of  the  farther  side  the  noose  of  one 
cowboy's  rope  fell  over  his  neck  and  that  of  an- 
other caught  a  forefoot.  In  a  few  seconds  Black 
Diamond  was  down  and  securely  roped. 

Though  purely  wild,  Black  Diamond  was  an 
animal  who  had  full  measure  of  what  we  call 
horse  sense.  He  ceased  to  struggle  with  the 
rope  the  instant  this  became  a  waste  of  energy. 
Many  wild  horses  when  roped  struggle  until 
completely  exhausted.  They  literally  fight  the 
men  trying  to  secure  them;  they  strike,  bite, 
kick,  and  stamp.  Occasionally  a  man  is  killed. 
Utmost  skill  is  required  to  master  one  of  these 
horses,  for  when  in  this  fighting  frame  of  mind, 
he  is  an  extremely  dangerous  beast  with  which 
to  deal. 

The  foreman  of  the  horse  hunters  wanted 
Black  Diamond  for  his  personal  use,  and  or- 
dered him  to  be  saddled  and  broken  at  once. 


A  WILD  THOROUGHBRED  155 

The  usual  method  of  breaking  a  horse  who  is  at 
all  spirited  is  to  saddle  him  while  blindfolded  or 
tied.  The  cowboy  swings  into  the  saddle  an 
instant  in  advance  of  the  releasing  of  the  ropes 
or  removing  of  the  blind.  With  quirt  and  spurs 
he  endeavours  to  excite  the  horse  to  use  energy 
rapidly,  and  to  exhaust  himself  in  ways  least 
likely  to  disconcert  the  rider. 

Black  Diamond  was  a  superior  horse,  but  this 
was  not  even  considered  when  it  came  to  riding 
him.  He  was  handled  as  though  a  man-killer. 
Each  would-be  rider  in  turn  treated  him  like  a 
beast.  There  was  no  opportunity  for  him  to  act 
calmly.  However,  he  exerted  little  effort  until 
the  first  would-be  rider  swung  into  the  saddle. 
Then,  so  to  speak,  he  "set  things  on  fire."  His 
moves  to  throw  the  cowboy  were  lightning- 
like  and  calculating.  There  were  no  mad,  blind, 
exhausting  efforts. 

One,  two,  three  riders,  in  rapid  succession,  he 
tossed  to  the  earth.  The  instant  the  first  rider 
was  thrown  the  horse  relaxed,  and  walked  to  the 
edge  of  the  corral,  seeing  everything;  but  as  there 
appeared  no  opening — no  opportunity  to  escape — 
he  put  up  his  proud  head  and  looked  around. 
As  a  fourth  crack  rider  swung  desperately  into 
the  saddle,  Black  Diamond  reared  to  the  ver- 
tical, wheeled  quickly,  facing  about,  and  came 
down  on  his  forefeet  so  violently  that  the  rider, 


156         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

already  tilted  in  the  saddle,  caught  the  shock 
on  his  left  thigh.  This  snapped  the  bone  and 
flung  him  heels  over  head  to  the  earth. 

The  foreman  ordered  this  outlaw — Black  Dia- 
mond— to  be  shipped  that  night  with  two  car- 
loads of  saddle  ponies  that  were  consigned  to  a 
Colorado  cattle  company  for  cowboy  use. 

At  least  a  dozen  of  the  crack  ranch  "busters'1 
at  Bar  "J"  Ranch  "forked"  Black  Diamond, 
and  each  had  been  promptly  and  ingloriously 
tossed  to  the  earth.  Again  an  outlaw,  Black 
Diamond  was  allowed  to  run  with  the  other 
saddle  stock  that  was  unassigned.  He  had 
his  freedom  throughout  the  summer.  He 
never  made  any  trouble  breaking  away,  as  did 
some  of  the  ponies  when  they  were  being  driven 
into  the  corral. 

He  had  won  his  reputation  and  often  was  the 
subject  for  conversation  or  banter.  The  mere 
mention  of  his  name  would  instantly  silence  any 
cowboy  who  became  unduly  reminiscent  con- 
cerning the  bronchos  he  had  elsewhere  conquered. 

After  dinner  the  boys  seated  themselves  in  a 
row  at  the  side  of  the  barn  for  a  little  rest  and  a 
smoke  before  resuming  broncho-busting  activi- 
ties. A  job  was  framed  up  among  them  to 
assign  "the  outlaw"  —Black  Diamond — to  Sam. 

Upon  inquiring  concerning  the  use  of  the  sub- 


A  WILD  THOROUGHBRED  157 

stantial  and  stockaded  circular  corral,  Davis  was 
told  that  it  was  used  chiefly  for  the  purpose  of 
subduing  refractory  bronchos.  Into  this  stock- 
ade the  horses  were  driven,  roped  heels  and  head, 
thrown,  and  hog-tied. 

"That's  cruel.  That's  wrong,"  drawled 
Davis;  but  his  comments  were  drowned  amid 
the  jeers  and  roars  of  the  cowboys. 

Davis  was  given  a  saddle  and  directed  to  the 
corral  in  which  was  his  allotment  of  saddle 
ponies,  including  Black  Diamond. 

"Hey,  there!"  roared  the  foreman,  "two  or 
three  of  you  fellows  get  a  move  on  you  and 
help  Sam  get  Black  Diamond." 

Half  the  bunch  leaped  to  their  feet  and  came 
merrily  forward,  eager  to  help  out  for  the  privi- 
lege of  being  a  close  spectator  of  the  exhibit 
which  they  had  scheduled  to  take  place  when 
Sam  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  outlaw. 

To  the  astonishment  of  everyone,  Sam  an- 
nounced that  he  did  not  want  any  help,  did  not 
want  any  one  to  frighten  his  pony  with  their 
cruel  and  crazy  methods.  There  was  a  quiet 
sneer  and  much  nudging  among  the  bunch  as 
Davis,  with  coiled  rope,  started  for  the  corral 
alone,  whistling  a  low,  lively  tune. 

He  was  a  dark,  athletic  fellow,  about  thirty- 
five,  and  had  the  shuffling,  straddling  walk  of  the 
cowboy.  As  he  strode  off  he  rolled  and  lighted 


158         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

a  cigarette  with  startling  dexterity.  Young 
Porter,  the  wide-awake  son  of  the  ranch  owner, 
realized  from  this  dexterity  that  Davis  might 
prove  a  star  actor;  he  was,  perhaps,  about  to 
give  a  startling  performance. 

Davis  went  into  the  corral  alone.  He  stood 
for  a  moment.  Getting  his  eyes  on  Black  Dia- 
mond, he  stopped  whistling,  commenced  hum- 
ming, and  advanced  slowly  toward  the  horse, 
quietly  edging  his  way  among  the  ponies.  Pres- 
ently he  not  only  had  Black  Diamond  alone  in 
the  corner,  but  the  horse  was  interested  and 
curious  concerning  this  big,  slow-moving,  quiet- 
going  fellow.  At  last,  Davis  laid  his  hand  gently 
upon  Black  Diamond's  side,  rubbed  him  easily, 
and  commenced  to  talk  to  him  in  friendly  tones. 

Many  a  sensitive  and  superior  horse  has  be- 
come an  outlaw  through  clumsy  or  cruel  han- 
dling. Just  average  thoughtfulness  will  improve 
any  horse;  most  horses  quickly  respond  to 
friendly  advances,  quiet  movements,  and  even, 
friendly  tones. 

After  a  minute  or  two,  Davis  placed  the  rope 
over  Black  Diamond's  head;  swift,  accurate 
moves  of  hands  followed,  and  the  rope  became  a 
hackamore  that  involved  the  horse's  head. 
Turning,  and  still  talking  to  him,  Davis  led  the 
horse  to  the  gate  and  then  out  of  the  corral. 

The   cowboys   gasped.     But   this   temporary 


A  WILD  THOROUGHBRED  159 

placidity  on  the  part  of  Black  Diamond,  they 
thought,  meant  preparation  for  a  more  terrific 
explosion  than  he  had  ever  shown.  This  ex- 
hibition would  happen — it  always  had  hap- 
pened— the  instant  after  the  rider  swung  into 
the  saddle. 

Davis  closed  the  gate,  spoke  a  few  words  in  an 
undertone  to  the  horse,  and  then,  without  saddle 
or  bridle,  climbed  awkwardly  upon  his  back. 
The  expectant  cowboys  held  their  breath.  Horse 
and  rider,  in  friendly  unison,  cut  lightning-like 
circles  and  figures.  Black  Diamond  plainly  en- 
joyed the  performance  and  made  no  attempt  to 
dislodge  his  rider.  The  cowboys  were  overawed, 
sobered,  and  then  amazed.  Leaping  off,  Davis 
said,  "Come,  Black  Diamond,  follow  me  and 
I'll  put  a  saddle  on  you."  Black  Diamond  obeyed 
and  followed! 

The  astounded  cowboys  did  not  wait  to  wit- 
ness the  second  performance.  They  slipped 
away  by  ones  and  twos  to  attend  to  their  own 
affairs ! 


CHAPTER  XII 

A    BLIND    GUIDE 

IN  THIS  story  Mr.  Enos  A.  Mills,  himself  one  of 
the  most  skilful  and  daring  woodsmen  in  America, 
tells  of  another  man's — Lou  Crandall's — thrilling 
exploit:  a  "man  hunt"  that  continued  for  three  days 
and  two  nights,  during  which  time  the  hunted  man 
was  without  food.  The  knowledge  which  Crandall 
showed  of  nature  and  of  the  craftiness  of  the  red 
men,  and  his  wonderful  memory  which  enabled  him, 
after  he  had  become  blind,  to  lead  his  lost  rescuers 
out  of  the  wild  and  back  to  civilization,  makes  this 
a  story  that  ranks  with  John  Colter's  as  an  adven- 
ture classic  of  the  pioneer  West.  Mr.  Mills  obtained 
the  facts  from  Crandall  himself  while  they  were  work- 
ing together  in  the  Independence  Mine  in  Cripple 
Creek  in  1896. — WALTER  P.  McGuiRE. 

FOR  a  time  Lou  Crandall  and  George  Wil- 
liams were  busy  with  the  windlass  which 
they  were  lowering  into  a  prospect  hole  and 
no  watch  was  kept.     Although  not  even  a  trace 
of  Indians  had  been  seen,  the  instant  the  wind- 
lass was  in  place  Crandall  paused  and  looked 
cautiously  around.     This  was  in   1868.     They 
were  on  the  Blackfoot  Indian  Reservation  in 
northern  Idaho,  from  which  the  Indians  had 
twice  driven  them  with  the  warning  never  to 

160 


A  BLIND  GUIDE  161 

return.  It  was  the  first  time  that  they  had 
gone  to  their  prospect  hole  unarmed.  Usually, 
one  had  worked  while  the  other  watched,  with 
rifles  at  hand. 

There  appeared  to  be  a  flattened  form,  on  the 
edge  of  the  spruce  forest,  crawling  up  through 
the  grass  of  the  meadow.  While  pretending  to 
be  examining  the  rope  Crandall  saw  other 
forms  each  covered  with  grass  and  all  slowly 
making  their  way  toward  them. 

It  was  an  ideal  autumn  day.  The  tapping  of 
a  woodpecker  and  the  angry  scolding  of  a  Fre- 
mont squirrel  were  the  only  sounds  in  that 
primeval  scene.  The  shadow  of  a  cloud  drifted 
leisurely  across  the  silent,  sunny  meadow.  Na- 
ture was  in  repose  and  apparently  everything 
was  serene. 

The  Blackfeet  had  surprised  them.  Crandall 
spoke  to  his  partner  in  the  bottom  of  the  hole  as 
though  Indians  were  not  discovered,  and  ham- 
mered away  on  the  windlass  while  the  partner 
climbed  out.  Then  both  made  a  dash  for  the 
woods,  the  cabin,  and  their  rifles,  less  than  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  away.  Instantly,  scores  of 
Indians  leaped  up  out  of  the  grass  and  closed 
in  on  them  in  a  small,  almost  complete  circle. 
The  cabin  and  rifles  were  never  reached. 

Five  of  the  best  Indian  runners  had  been  sta- 
tioned in  the  edge  of  the  woods  between  the 


162         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

prospectors  and  their  cabin.  They  were  naked 
save  for  breechcloth  and  moccasins.  As  these 
five  rushed  out  upon  the  prospectors,  tomahawks 
in  hand,  most  of  the  other  Indians  stopped  and 
with  jeers  and  hoots  of  derision  set  up  a  terrible 
yelling.  Evidently  they  considered  the  prospec- 
tors captured. 

Williams  was  the  elder  and  the  slower  of  the 
two.  The  woods  were  still  one  hundred  yards 
away  when  an  Indian  crowded  him  so  closely 
that  only  the  audacity  of  Crandall  prevented 
Williams's  capture.  He  grabbed  a  stone,  wheeled, 
and  let  it  fly  at  the  head  of  the  nearest  Indian. 
So  true  was  Crandall's  aim  that  the  Indian 
flung  himself  to  the  earth  to  avoid  it.  In  this 
brief  pause  two  or  three  other  Indians  ran  up 
dangerously  close.  Three  tomahawks  were 
thrown  at  Crandall,  but  rapid  dodging  to  right 
and  left  as  he  ran  saved  him.  Although  the 
Indians  were  not  swift  enough  to  encircle  the 
two  men,  it  did  appear  that  they  would  capture 
them  before  the  woods  could  be  reached. 

It  was  a  race  for  life.  An  Indian  without  a 
tomahawk  rushed  forward,  evidently  intending 
to  seize  and  grapple  with  Williams  or  his  com- 
panion. Crandall  noticed  that  he  was  unarmed, 
watched  for  an  opportunity,  broke  a  dead  limb 
from  a  tree,  wheeled,  and  felled  the  astonished 
redskin. 


A  BLIND  GUIDE  163 

In  the  woods  both  for  a  time  outran  the  In- 
dians. After  several  minutes  Crandall  ceased 
to  hear  his  partner,  so  stopped,  then  went  back  a 
few  steps  and  called.  No  answer.  While  lis- 
tening, he  caught  sight  of  Indians  sneaking  up 
among  the  trees,  so  he  turned  and  ran  on.  With 
boisterous  yells  the  redskins  gave  chase.  He 
could  hear  the  heavy  breathing  of  a  closely  pur- 
suing Indian.  He  set  his  swiftest  pace.  Finally, 
when  even  the  thumping  of  the  Indian's  feet 
could  be  heard  no  longer,  he  stopped  to  rest. 

Crandall  was  twenty-seven  years  old,  had  won- 
derful endurance,  and  was  one  of  the  best  of  run- 
ners. But  what  had  become  of  his  partner? 
Crandall  feared  that  the  Indians  had  captured 
him  but  once  more  turned  to  see  if  he  could  not 
be  found.  Doubling  on  his  trail,  he  climbed  a 
tree  near  the  edge  of  a  wide,  grassy  space  which 
he  had  crossed  a  few  minutes  before.  He  com- 
manded a  good  view  of  the  grassy  open  and  the 
forest  margin  on  the  farther  side.  Here  he 
watched,  hoping  to  see  Williams  burst  out  of 
the  woods.  But  he  did  not  appear,  nor  was  any 
trace  of  him  ever  found. 

While  Crandall  watched,  four  Indians  in  single 
file  came  trooping  out  of  the  woods.  The  lead 
Indian  was  leaning  forward,  carefully  watching 
the  trail.  The  rear  one  occasionally  glanced 
behind,  while  the  others  watched  to  right  and 


164          WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

left.  They  paused  briefly  almost  beneath  him, 
then  went  forward  on  his  trail. 

As  soon  as  the  Indians  were  out  of  hearing 
Crandall  slipped  to  the  earth  and  hurried  cau- 
tiously forward  across  the  grassy  opening.  He 
had  so  carefully  back-tracked  that  he  felt  certain 
the  Indians  would  lose  an  hour  or  more  before 
they  could  find  his  trail  at  the  base  of  the  tree. 

It  was  more  than  one  hundred  miles  to  the 
nearest  place  of  safety.  He  realized  that  to  make 
Fort  Lapway  it  would  be  wisest  to  travel  as  far 
as  possible  through  the  woods  before  crossing  the 
open  stretch  of  prairie.  This  forest  was  a  narrow, 
ragged-edged  strip  between  wide,  grassy  plains. 

After  journeying  forward  a  couple  of  hours 
Crandall  suddenly  came  upon  a  dim  trail 
through  the  woods  which  he  remembered  having 
followed  some  weeks  before.  He  recalled  that  a 
mile  farther  on  the  trail  this  strip  of  woods  was 
deeply  indented  with  a  peninsula  of  prairie. 
Of  course  the  Indians  would  know  of  this  short 
way  across  the  tongue  of  prairie,  and  would  be 
pretty  certain  to  follow  it,  thereby  saving  a  mile 
or  so,  to  head  him  off.  Starting  toward  the 
edge  of  the  woods  he  was  suddenly  aware  of 
approaching  footsteps  and  dropped  behind  a 
boulder.  The  four  Indian  runners  passed  near 
by  and  stopped  in  the  edge  of  the  woods  only  a 
few  yards  from  him.  Here  they  briefly  con- 


A  BLIND  GUIDE  165 

versed  in  low  tones  with  a  few  accompanying 
gestures,  and  then  separated. 

Two  took  the  short  cut  across  the  open,  and 
the  other  two  entered  the  woods  behind  Cran- 
dall.  From  his  place  behind  the  boulder  he 
watched  the  two  Indians  cross  the  open  and  re- 
enter  the  forest  beyond.  After  a  brief  wait  he 
audaciously  followed  the  first  two  across  the 
open.  While  they  were  searching  for  him  in  the 
woods  he  entered  the  woods  beyond  them. 

Darkness  came  and  Crandall  left  the  woods 
and  travelled  in  the  open,  but  ever  near  the  edge 
of  the  woods.  Morning  brought  him  to  the  end 
of  the  forest.  As  it  would  not  do  to  travel  the 
open  in  daylight,  he  must  necessarily  lie  in  hid- 
ing until  night. 

But  before  hiding  he  waded  down  the  brook 
for  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  then  left  it  and  travelled  a 
short  distance  beyond,  as  though  starting  across 
the  prairie.  Then,  with  utmost  care  to  conceal 
his  trail,  he  made  his  way  back  to  the  brook 
and  waded  up  it  some  distance  above  the  place 
where  he  had  first  entered  it.  Here  he  drew  him- 
self up  into  a  tree  by  means  of  a  limb  that  ex- 
tended across  the  brook.  From  this  he  swung 
into  another  tree  and  came  down  upon  rocky 
|  debris  that  showed  no  track  nor  hint  of  a  trail. 
He  climbed  a  crag  and  on  the  top  of  this,  just  at 
sunrise,  lay  down  to  wait  for  darkness. 


166         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Crandall  did  not  allow  his  eyes  to  close.  In 
mid-afternoon  he  saw  Indians  circling  and  care- 
fully searching  for  a  trail  by  the  brook,  near 
where  he  had  left  it.  The  cunning  redskins  exam- 
ined the  bottom  of  the  brook  for  tracks;  they 
picked  up  some  twigs  and  spruce  needles  which 
he  had  broken  off,  then  gazed  excitedly  into  the 
treetops. 

In  vain  they  searched  over  concentric  circles 
for  the  trail.  One  Indian  scaled  a  neighbouring 
crag,  while  a  second  came  to  the  base  of  the  one 
upon  which  Crandall  lay.  Clutching  one  of 
several  collected  stones,  he  flattened  himself  upon 
the  top  surface  of  the  crag  and  waited  for  the 
Indian  to  come  up. 

But  the  Indian  did  not  come,  and  by  and  by 
all  the  redskins  moved  on  and  finally  disap- 
peared over  a  hill  about  a  mile  distant.  Toward 
evening  all  but  one  of  them  returned  and  van- 
ished in  the  woods.  From  their  actions  Crandall 
judged  that  they  had  abandoned  pursuit.  But 
what  had  become  of  the  other  Indian? 

It  was  good  to  have  a  rest  after  eighteen  strenu- 
ous hours.  Without  food,  and  his  chances  of 
escape  not  good,  still  Crandall  did  not  doubt, 
nor  was  he  in  the  least  discouraged.  That  he 
might  lose  in  this  long,  desperate  race,  never  oc- 
curred to  him. 

From  boyhood  until  the  age  of  twenty-six 


A  BLIND  GUIDE  167 

Crandall  had  been  a  trapper.  In  1867,  while  in 
the  region  which  is  now  the  Yellowstone  Park, 
stories  of  rich  gold  in  the  Blackfoot  Reservation 
caused  him  to  exchange  his  trapper's  outfit  for 
that  of  a  prospector.  Just  after  he  had  entered 
the  reservation  the  Indians  swept  down  upon 
him  and  his  partner  in  camp.  They  had  just 
time  to  throw  their  picks  and  shovels  into  a 
near-by  beaver  pond.  The  Indians,  unable  to 
find  any  evidence  of  their  prospecting,  told 
them  to  leave  the  reservation  at  once  and  not 
to  return.  When  leaving,  they  encountered  a 
rich  outcropping  of  gold  quartz  and  in  a  short 
time  returned  to  this  with  a  large  pack  outfit  and 
eight  companions.  The  Indians  attacked  them 
and  captured  all  of  their  supplies.  Crandall 
and  three  other  prospectors  escaped.  The  fol- 
lowing year  he  and  his  partner  procured  a  new 
outfit  and  made  their  way  back  to  the  place 
where  the  Indians  had  surprised  them. 

But  to  return  to  Crandall  on  the  crag.  When 
darkness  fell  upon  the  scene  he  climbed  cau- 
tiously down  and  started  forward  across  the 
open  country,  making  a  detour  to  the  right  to 
avoid  the  missing  Indian.  He  had  barely 
started  when  a  rustling  on  his  left  startled  and 
stopped  him.  He  dropped  to  the  earth  and  lay 
still.  As  he  listened  the  rustling  became  more 
distinct  and  he  thought  of  the  lone  Indian. 


168         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Then  came  a  footfall  on  his  right,  promptly 
followed  by  a  shuffling  noise  close  behind  him. 
He  stiffened. 

The  multiplicity  of  sounds  led  him  to  believe 
that  a  number  of  Indians  were  surrounding  him. 
Preparing  to  spring  up  in  an  attempt  to  break 
through  the  line,  he  was  surprised  by  the  snort 
of  an  elk.  Relieved,  he  rose  up,  and  a  startled 
herd  of  elk  thudded  away  in  the  darkness. 

By  sunup  Crandall  had  separated  himself 
from  the  Blackfoot  country  by  so  many  miles 
that  he  felt  safe  to  travel  across  the  prairie  by 
daylight.  On  he  went,  but  he  was  ceaselessly 
vigilant.  Much  of  the  time  he  moved  through 
a  country  so  level  and  open  that  objects  could 
be  seen  for  miles.  From  time  to  time  his  eyes 
swept  round  the  entire  horizon;  from  the  cover 
of  hollows  he  surveyed  the  ridges  and  slopes 
ahead;  he  crawled  across  hilltops  to  avoid  prom- 
inence on  the  skyline;  and  from  the  heights 
examined  descending  slopes  before  exposing 
himself  upon  them. 

Every  hour  was  exciting.  During  the  morn- 
ing upon  a  summit  ahead  he  detected  a  slight 
movement  that  suggested  a  crawling,  scouting 
Indian.  Instantly  he  dropped  into  the  grass. 
Presently  a  coyote  came  out  on  the  skyline  and 
revealed  the  identity  of  the  uncertain. 

A  little  after  mid-day  some  objects  rose  on  the 


A  BLIND  GUIDE  169 

horizon  and  he  dived  into  a  bunch  of  willows 
until  these  advancing  objects  resolved  them- 
selves into  antelope. 

Toward  evening,  while  trotting  easily  along, 
he  stumbled  and  fell  headlong.  He  had  hardly 
gotten  all  the  large  cactus  thorns  out  of  his 
hand  before  he  made  another  clumsy  stumble. 
Angry  with  himself  for  such  awkwardness,  he 
sprang  to  his  feet  and  started  on  the  run  only 
to  fall  heavily  again. 

Slowly  he  staggered  to  his  feet,  paused,  and 
passed  a  trembling  hand  before  his  exhausted 
eyes.  The  strain  had  continued  too  long,  and 
the  intrepid  Crandall  had  become  blind  out  in 
the  vast,  lone  prairie ! 

Probably  not  one  man  in  a  million  could  have 
endured  the  hardships  that  followed  the  race 
from  the  prospect  hole.  It  had  taken  three  days 
and  two  nights  of  severe  and  incessant  use  to 
exhaust  his  steadfast  eyes.  His  oaken  consti- 
tution now  also  faltered,  and  he  sank  to  the 
earth,  trembling  with  exhaustion.  He  had  not 
had  a  mouthful  to  eat  since  this  race  for  life 
started.  A  torturing  pain  pierced  his  eyes,  and 
his  leg  muscles  commenced  to  cramp  violently. 

With  a  desperate  effort  he  blindly  dragged 
himself  into  a  cluster  of  sagebrush  that  might 
conceal  him  from  the  Indians.  As  he  lay  won- 
dering what  his  fate  would  be,  his  ears  detected 


i;o         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

sounds  of  cautious  footfalls.  Thinking  that  the 
lone  Indian  was  at  last  approaching,  he  clutched 
a  stone,  ready,  though  blind,  for  a  desperate  de- 
fence. Instead  of  an  expected  kick,  a  voice 
with  an  Emerald  Isle  accent  asked,  "What's 
the  matter  wid  ye  ?" 

A  picket  from  a  soldier  camp  near  by  had  seen 
Crandall  stumbling  and  had  come  to  his  rescue. 
Crandall  was  taken  charge  of,  bathed,  and  his 
eyes  dressed.  By  morning  he  was  easier,  but 
it  was  important  that  his  eyes  have  early  medical 
attention. 

But  the  soldiers  were  lost.  For  three  days 
they  had  been  on  half  rations.  Crandall  volun- 
teered to  take  command  and  lead  the  company 
on  to  Fort  Lapway.  Off  all  started  with  Cran- 
dall in  the  lead,  lying  upon  a  stretcher  that  was 
swung  between  two  mules.  The  lieutenant  was 
close  behind.  On  each  side  of  Crandall  rode  a 
soldier  who  from  time  to  time  described  to  him 
the  topography  on  the  right  and  on  the  left. 
With  this  information,  Crandall  unhesitatingly 
directed  the  way. 

After  three  hours  of  advance  the  soldier  on  his 
left  asked,  "Shall  I  turn  to  the  right  or  the  left 
of  the  round  grassy  hills  ahead?" 

"How  far  away  are  the  hills?"  sharply  asked 
Crandall. 

"About  one  mile,"  answered  the  soldier. 


A  BLIND  GUIDE  171 

"How  many  arc  there  of  them?" 

"Four,"  came  the  answer. 

"Well,  what  is  on  the  right?"  asked  Crandall 
of  his  other  lookout. 

"There  is  a  steep  hill,  grassy  on  the  south 
and  west  but  tree-covered  on  the  north,"  was 
the  answer. 

"Is  there  a  cliff  of  rocks  with  two  trees  on 
top  of  it  about  a  mile  farther  on?"  asked  Cran- 
dall. 

"Yes,"  was  the  answer. 

"Can  you  see  just  to  the  right  of  this  a  for- 
ested ridge  in  the  distance?" 

"Yes/3  came  half-a-dozen  answers. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Crandall,  "aim  for  the  cliff, 
go  to  the  left  of  it,  then  aim  for  the  lowest  place 
in  the  forested  ridge.  I  guess  you  will  know 
where  you  are  when  we  get  on  top  of  this  ridge." 

On  they  went,  and  that  evening  all  arrived 
at  the  fort.  Here  Crandall  spent  a  month  in 
the  military  hospital  before  he  could  either  see 
or  walk. 

True  to  pioneer  and  prospector  characteris- 
tics, these  three  disastrous  experiences  were  not 
discouraging  to  Crandall.  At  the  fort  he  picked 
up  another  partner,  and  amid  the  falling  of  the 
aspens'  golden  leaves,  again  set  off  for  the  Black- 
foot  Reservation! 


CHAPTER  XIII 

TRAMP  DAYS  OF  GRIZZLY  CUBS 

A  GRIZZLY  bear  cub  has  wilderness  ad- 
ventures that  would  delight  the  soul  of 
any  real  boy — mountain  climbing,  swim- 
ming, exploring — no  end  of  excitement  and  fun. 
He  is  a  merry  explorer  of  the  wilderness.  Pre- 
pared and  preparing  for  what  comes,  he  has 
a  variety  of  experiences.  In  the  period  between 
separation  from  its  mother  and  the  selection 
of  its  home  the  cub  is  a  fun-loving  rover  and  has  a 
jolly  tramphood  of  about  two  years. 

The  tramp  life  of  the  cub  is  all  the  more 
lively  and  exciting  where  there  are  two  or  three 
cubs — brothers  and  sisters — to  rove  the  wilds 
together.  One  of  them  becomes  the  leader. 
Both  in  fun  and  fighting  the  cubs  are  united, 
they  are  loyal  to  one  another  even  unto  death. 
They  have  two  full  summers  and  one  or  two 
winters  together.  Usually  they  separate  during 
the  third  summer.  Each  then  goes  forth  to  se- 
lect his  own  exclusive  territory,  and  settles  down 
to  serious  life  alone. 

Three  grizzly  cubs  whom  I  saw  a  number  of 

172 


TRAMP  DAYS  OF  GRIZZLY  CUBS         173 

times  in  the  Saw  Tooth  Mountains  of  Idaho 
certainly  had  a  lively,  varied  cubhood,  one 
full  of  fun  and  adventure.  A  prospector  had 
also  watched  them  and  told  me  some  of  their 
experiences.  A  hunter  had  killed  the  mother, 
wounded  one  cub  slightly  in  a  foreleg,  and  shot 
a  toe  off  a  second  cub,  the  third  cub  being  un- 
injured. The  cubs  made  their  escape.  This 
was  in  September  just  after  they  were  weaned. 
After  being  weaned,  cubs  usually  run  with  the 
mother  the  remainder  of  the  autumn  and  den  up 
with  her  that  winter.  They  leave  her  and  go 
off  together  some  time  the  next  summer.  Through 
the  death  of  their  mother,  these  cubs  were  left 
to  look  out  for  themselves  earlier  in  life  than  is 
usual. 

The  cub  who  was  wounded  in  the  leg  became 
the  leader  of  the  three.  Whether  he  decided  all 
their  movements  I  cannot  say,  but  whatever  he 
did  the  others  instantly  fell  in  with.  Adventure 
after  adventure  had  this  loyal  band.  They 
were  inseparable  playmates  and  united  comrades 
in  face  of  danger.  Wherever  they  went  the 
cub  with  the  slight  limp  was  invariably  in  the 
lead. 

During  wanderings  this  autumn  they  dis- 
covered the  prospect  hole  in  which  my  prospec- 
tor friend  was  working.  When  he  came  up  for 
lunch  one  day  he  saw  the  cubs  in  the  edge  of  the 


174         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

woods  near  by,  apparently  looking,  all  atten- 
tion, at  the  windlass,  or  perhaps  they  were  both 
looking  and  listening.  On  his  appearance  they 
stared  for  a  few  seconds  and  then  ran  off.  The 
prospector  occasionally  ran  a  small  suction  air 
machine  to  help  ventilate  the  tunnel  and  shaft. 
This  caused  a  peculiar  humming,  rattling  sound, 
and  it  may  have  been  the  sound  made  by  it 
that  attracted  the  attention  of  the  cubs. 

There  was  snow  on  the  ground.  On  his  way  to 
his  cabin  the  prospector  saw  the  cubs'  tracks. 
They  had  been  travelling  single  file  when  they 
became  interested  in  his  place  of  work.  All  had 
risen  up  on  hind  feet  and  stood  abreast,  facing 
the  place,  evidently  looking,  smelling,  and  listen- 
ing. Apparently  while  doing  this  they  had  taken 
alarm.  After  running  back  a  short  distance 
down  their  trail  they  stopped  and  again  stood  up. 
Tracks  in  the  snow  showed  that  they  had  waited 
some  minutes  trying  to  make  up  their  minds 
what  the  excitement  was  about,  and  as  to  the  next 
move  they  would  make.  Again  advancing  single 
file  up  the  trail,  they  went  beyond  the  place  where 
they  had  first  stopped  and  approached  much 
closer  to  the  prospect.  But  on  reaching  the  edge 
of  the  woods  they  had  evidently  taken  alarm 
again  and  retreated  single  file  in  their  former 
tracks.  They  had  proceeded  once  more  to  the 
edge  of  the  woods  when  the  prospector  appeared. 


TRAMP  DAYS  OF  GRIZZLY  CUBS         175 

Curiosity  seems  to  be  the  most  striking  trait 
in  grizzly  bear  nature.  A  grizzly  is  ever  alert  for 
anything  unusual,  anything  that  is  new.  New 
scents,  new  sounds,  new  figures,  or  even  unusual 
or  peculiar  actions  on  the  part  of  wild  life,  never 
fail  to  interest  him.  Ofttimes  this  extreme  curi- 
osity causes  him  to  approach  close  to  the  inter- 
esting object  in  order  that  it  may  be  seen  to 
better  advantage  or  its  peculiarities  compre- 
hended. Every  cub  is  full  of  curiosity. 

The  prospector  was  not  a  hunter.  He  saw 
the  cubs  three  or  four  times  that  autumn  and 
occasionally  crossed  their  tracks.  Once  he  came 
upon  all  three  in  the  woods  where  they  were 
digging,  perhaps  for  some  mice.  Another  time 
he  saw  all  three  on  a  rocky  mountain  side  busily 
engaged  eating  the  red,  ripened  fruit  of  the 
wild  rose.  A  third  time  he  saw  them  cross, 
single  file,  an  opening  by  a  beaver  pond,  cubs 
two  and  three  carefully  stepping  in  the  tracks  of 
the  lame  leader.  Late  that  November,  while 
returning  from  an  examination  of  a  mineral 
outcrop  some  miles  from  his  cabin,  he  encount- 
ered their  tracks,  trailed  them  in  the  newly 
fallen  snow  a  short  distance,  and  found  where 
they  had  all  entered  a  den  of  their  own  digging. 
In  this  den  the  youngsters  spent  the  winter. 

Later  when  I  visited  this  den  it  was  simply  a 
hole  in  the  gravelly  mountain  side  about  six  feet 


176         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

deep.  In  this  the  cubs  had  evidently  curled  up 
together  on  the  barren  gravel.  They  did  not 
use  this  den  the  second  winter. 

During  the  second  autumn  of  their  lives  I 
saw  these  aggressive  youngsters  on  the  moun- 
tains at  least  twenty  miles  from  the  prospector's 
cabin.  They  were  having  a  swim  in  a  beaver 
pond,  and  no  three  swimming  boys  ever  had 
more  fun.  They  splashed  water,  they  wres- 
tled, and  occasionally  they  boxed.  I  watched 
their  pranks  for  more  than  an  hour.  For  a 
week  I  followed  them  and  had  a  number  of 
peeps  into  their  life.  Just  where  they  spent 
most  nights  I  could  not  discover.  But  one 
night  they  lay  close  together  under  the  edge 
of  a  willow  clump  at  the  foot  of  a  steep  forested 
mountain,  with  a  thicket  of  willows  in  front  of 
them  and  a  cliff  behind. 

Another  time  I  watched  the  cubs  with  field 
glasses  while  they  were  catching  fish  in  a  little 
stream  that  flowed  into  Red  Fish  Lake.  While 
thus  absorbed  a  deer  came  rustling  through  the 
willows  near  them.  Evidently  the  cubs  had 
not  scented  it.  Though  in  no  wise  alarmed, 
they  instantly  endeavoured  to  see  what  it  was. 
The  leader  happened  to  be  standing  near  a  much- 
branched  tree  that  lay  on  the  ground.  He 
reared  up,  put  forepaws  against  it,  and  peered 
intently  ahead.  The  other  two  cubs,  unable 


TRAMP  DAYS  OF  GRIZZLY  CUBS         177 

to  get  a  view  either  side  of  him,  also  reared  up; 
the  second  cub  put  forepaws  on  the  back  of 
the  leader  and  the  one  in  the  rear  likewise  upon 
the  back  of  the  second.  In  this  position  they 
looked  intently,  pointing  noses  slightly  to  right 
and  to  left  as  they  looked,  until  the  deer  came 
out  into  the  opening.  Then,  instantly  they  re- 
laxed, and  promptly  single  filed  off  upstream. 

Although  the  cubs  had  been  fishing,  they  had, 
apparently,  between  times  been  eating  grass. 
One  of  them,  as  he  stood  up,  presented  a  strange 
appearance  with  a  few  dozen  long  blades  of  grass 
projecting  from  between  his  tightly  closed  jaws. 

One  day  I  saw  the  cubs  chasing  and  capturing 
grasshoppers  in  the  edge  of  the  woods.  With 
fat  bodies,  they  made  a  comical  movie  show  as 
they  slipped  upon  an  alighted  grasshopper  or 
leaped  into  the  air  and  struck  after  one  that 
flew  away.  While  I  was  watching  the  cubs  an 
old  grizzly  came  out  of  the  woods  and  passed 
close  to  them  without  stopping,  showing  no 
objection  to  their  presence.  A  grizzly  will 
promptly  drive  off  another  old  bear  who  prowls 
in  his  territory;  but  prowling  cubs  appear  free 
to  go  anywhere.  The  cubs  stood  still  and 
watched  the  old  one  out  of  sight,  but  showed  no 
concern  over  his  appearance. 

I  hoped  to  be  fortunate  enough  sometime  to 
see  these  cubs  meet  other  roaming  cubs  of  their 


178         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

own  age,  but  never  did.  Just  what  cubs  do 
on  such  eventful  occasions,  just  what  the  wilder- 
ness etiquette  is  for  such  meetings,  I  hope  some- 
time to  discover. 

The  day  the  cubs  were  catching  grasshoppers 
their  colour  came  out  clearly  as  they  moved 
about  in  the  sunlight.  The  colour  of  each  was 
grayish  brown.  Often  grizzly  cubs  have  coats 
unlike  in  colour.  The  cubs  were  plump  and 
clean,  nearly  of  a  size,  the  leader  being  a  trifle 
the  largest  of  the  three.  He  probably  weighed 
one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds. 

A  month  after  I  left  this  region  two  hunters 
came  upon  the  cubs  in  a  partly  willow-filled 
opening  by  a  stream  in  the  woods.  Only  one 
cub  was  seen.  Both  hunters  fired  at  short 
range.  The  cub  was  knocked  down  and  appar- 
ently severely  wounded.  He  set  up  a  terrible 
bawling  and  wailing  as  he  thrashed  about  in  the 
willows.  The  hunters  hurried  to  right  and  to 
left  to  get  another  shot  at  him. 

The  other  two  cubs  at  once  charged  the  hunt- 
ers. One  of  the  men,  seeing  a  cub  coming,  all 
bristled  up  and  snarling,  and  only  a  few  jumps 
off,  dropped  his  rifle,  leaped  up,  and  caught  a 
limb  and  swung  himself  into  a  tree.  He  lost  a 
legging  from  the  stroke  of  the  cub  and  barely  es- 
caped the  terrific  blow  of  the  cub's  paw.  The 
other  cub — the  lame  leader — was  upon  the 


TRAMP  DAYS  OF  GRIZZLY  CUBS         179 

second  hunter  before  the  latter  saw  him.  With 
a  right  forepaw  the  cub  knocked  him  headlong 
among  the  willows  and  cracked  two  ribs.  Then 
he  seized  the  man,  shook  him  repeatedly,  and  bit 
him  in  the  shoulder  and  in  the  thigh. 

Meantime,  the  wounded  cub  had  gotten  on  his 
feet.  The  lame  one  ceased  mauling  the  hunter 
and  began  licking  the  injured  cub's  wounds. 
They  were  joined  a  minute  later  by  the  cub  who 
had  been  watching  the  treed  hunter,  and  all 
three  vanished  among  the  willows.  A  grizzly 
bear,  young  or  old,  will  not  attack  a  man  unless 
first  attacked,  or  unless  he  feels  that  he  is  cor- 
nered, or  in  defence  of  one  of  his  number. 

Dropping  out  of  the  tree  the  hunter  hurriedly 
took  his  wounded  comrade  to  camp  and  sum- 
moned help.  From  his  graphic  account  of  the 
fury  of  these  charging  cubs  one  could  readily 
believe  that  a  full-grown  grizzly  when  stirred 
to  fight,  might,  as  Governor  Clinton  said  a  cen- 
tury ago,  "defy  the  attacks  of  an  entire  tribe  of 
Indians,"  armed  as  the  Indians  were  with  only 
bows  and  spears.  The  formidable  manner  in 
which  grizzlies  fight  when  driven  to  it,  and  not 
because  of  ferocity,  was  the  chief  reason  why 
they  were  named  Ursus  horribilis  and  Ursus 
horribilis  imperator. 

The  loyalty  of  a  grizzly  cub  to  his  accom- 
panying comrade  or  comrades  is  probably  not 


i8o         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

excelled  in  the  world  of  animal  life.  Like  the 
three  Swiss  on  the  mountain  heights,  they  stand 
all  for  each  other  and  each  for  all.  In  every 
emergency  they  appear  to  think  only  for  the  com- 
mon good.  The  intense  devotion  which  the 
mother  shows  for  the  cubs  is  in  turn  shown  by 
each  cub  to  the  others. 

There  are  numerous  accounts  in  which  grizzly 
pets  have  shown  all  that  intense  loyalty  to  man 
which  we  have  ascribed  only  to  the  dog.  Griz- 
zlies have  dared  to  die  for  their  masters.  Loy- 
alty is  a  distinguished  trait  of  the  grizzly  bear. 

Evidently  the  wounded  cub  speedily  recov- 
ered. Less  than  a  month  after  this  shooting  the 
cubs  stampeded  a  trapper's  pack  horse  and  put 
the  trapper  unceremoniously  up  a  tree.  He  had 
set  a  bear  trap,  using  stale  meat  for  bait.  Inside 
of  forty-eight  hours  the  cubs  came  near.  They 
had  caught  the  scent  some  distance  off,  turned, 
so  their  tracks  showed,  and  come  cautiously 
toward  the  trap.  They  had  circled  it  and  evi- 
dently paid  more  attention  to  the  curious  trap 
than  to  the  bait.  One  of  the  cubs  had  reached 
out  a  paw,  evidently  to  feel  of  the  trap,  and  in 
so  doing  had  sprung  it,  catching  just  two  toes 
of  his  paw;  but  he  was  held  fast. 

The  next  day  the  trapper  was  moving  his  sup- 
plies to  a  permanent  camp  on  his  pack  horse. 
He  was  close  to  the  trap  before  the  horse  became 


TRAMP  DAYS  OF  GRIZZLY  CUBS         181 

alarmed  at  bear  scent  and  refused  to  go  on. 
The  trapper  dismounted  and  tied  the  horse  to  a 
small  pine,  planning  to  advance  with  his  rifle. 
The  two  cubs,  loyal  to  their  trapped  comrade, 
had  remained  near.  They  charged  the  hunter 
and  horse.  The  horse,  excited,  pulled  violently, 
uprooted  the  pine,  and  fell  over  backward;  then 
he  stampeded  wildly  through  the  woods  and  wil- 
lows. His  pack  was  left  partly  in  the  willows 
and  partly  adhering  to  tree  limbs.  Everything 
was  scattered. 

The  horse  in  falling  had  tumbled  between  the 
hunter  and  the  charging  cubs.  These  few  sec- 
onds' delay  enabled  the  hunter  to  climb  into  a 
tree  before  the  cubs  could  be  upon  him.  As 
grizzly  bears  cannot  climb  he  escaped.  During 
the  confusion  the  trapped  cub  had  tugged  vio- 
lently at  the  trap  chain,  which  was  fastened  to  a 
small  broken  log,  and  dragged  this  log  for  some 
distance  when  it  became  caught.  In  the  surges 
which  followed  the  cub  tore  off  his  two  trapped 
toes.  As  soon  as  he  was  freed  all  three  cubs 
hurried  off  into  the  woods. 

During  two  seasons  of  exploring  the  cubs  had 
covered  a  mountainous  country  about  forty  miles 
long  by  thirty  miles  wide — about  twelve  hundred 
square  miles.  After  they  separated  they  may  or 
may  not  have  spent  any  time  in  this  region.  No 
matter  how  chummy  and  inseparable  when 


182         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

r 

tramping  the  woods  together,  after  cubs  separate 
they  are  not  likely  to  meet  again,  or  if  they  do 
meet  as  grown  bears  they  are  not  likely  to  pay 
friendly  attention  to  one  another. 

A  grizzly,  except  a  mother  while  with  cubs, 
lives  alone.  Whether  a  cub  simply  wanders  until 
he  finds  an  unclaimed  territory  that  he  likes,  or 
whether  his  mother  sometimes  selects  his  future 
home  for  him,  is  not  known.  But  usually  by  the 
time  a  bear  is  three  years  old  he  has  settled  in  some 
section.  In  this  he  lives  alone,  and  in  it,  too, 
he  dens  up — hibernates — alone  during  the  win- 
ter. Rarely  does  he  leave  his  chosen  locality, 
and  then  commonly  for  a  short  time  only.  A 
bear  ever  objects  to  another  bear  of  the  same 
species  intruding  on  his  claimed  territory.  So 
when  a  bear  is  away  from  home  he  is  likely  to 
keep  on  the  move. 

It  is  not  known  when  or  where  these  three 
loyal  cub  explorers  finally  parted.  It  may  have 
been  at  the  close  of  their  second  jolly  summer 
when  time  to  den  up,  or  it  may  have  been  the 
spring  following  when  they  came  forth  from  the 
den.  After  all  their  rambles,  swims,  feasts, 
and  adventures  together  they  separated.  I  wish 
I  might  have  seen  them  at  the  time  they 
parted  for  ever. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

SNOWSLIDES    FROM    START   TO    FINISH 

ONE  snowy  March  evening  I  arrived  on 
web  snowshoes  at  a  miners'  boarding 
house  high  up  in  the  Twelve  Mile  Range 
of  mountains  where  snowslides  are  common  in 
spring.  I  had  come  to  see  snowslides,  and  after 
I  had  spent  all  evening  hearing  the  miners  tell 
about  them  I  was  more  anxious  than  ever  to 
see  how  snowslides  "run." 

Next  morning  I  was  up  early  and  all  ready 
when  the  foreman  came  out  and  asked,  "Has 
the  Ferguson  run  yet  ?  Well,  then,  tell  Sullivan 
to  start  her."  Looking  in  my  direction,  he 
added,  "Tell  him  to  take  this  fellow  along." 

I  followed  Sullivan's  example  and  seized  a 
ten-pound  rock  fragment  on  the  dump,  then 
hurried  along,  trying  on  web  shoes  to  keep  up 
with  Sullivan's  long  skee  strides. 

"The  Ferguson,"  I  learned,  as  we  hustled 
along,  was  the  name  of  a  gulch;  and  the  thing 
the  foreman  wanted  started  was  the  snow  in 
the  upper  end.  Several  times  each  winter,  as 
soon  as  snow  from  storm  or  wind  accumulated 

183 


i84         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

in  the  gulch  or  on  the  summit  rim,  the  snow  ran 
out  in  a  slide — the  Ferguson  slide.  When  it 
failed  to  start  promptly  of  its  own  accord  after  a 
heavy  snowstorm  the  miners  started  it.  It  was 
dangerous  to  use  the  road  over  the  gulch,  half  a 
mile  below,  with  the  snowslide  impending.  A 
slide  of  several  hundred  tons  of  snow  could  rush 
the  full  length  of  the  smooth,  steep-sided  gulch 
in  a  minute  or  less,  although  it  was  from  a  quar- 
ter to  half  a  mile  deep  and  more  than  a  mile  long 

The  mine  building  stood  on  the  top  of  the 
plateau  a  short  distance  from  the  head  of  the 
gulch.  Whirling  winds  made  a  current  down  the 
gulch,  but  as  they  swept  over  the  rim  the  current 
was  broken  and  much  of  the  wind-carried  snow 
was  dropped,  forming  in  a  few  hours  an  enor- 
mous snow  cornice  at  the  upper  rim  of  the  gulch 
Here  we  stopped. 

"Throw  her  there,"  directed  Sullivan. 

My  ten-pound  rock  made  a  snowy  splash, 
Instantly  a  wagonload  of  snow  slipped,  then  the 
entire  cornice  caved  off  and  the  whole  mass  ol 
snow  in  the  upper  end  of  the  gulch  started  slid- 
ing. With  a  rush  and  roar  it  swept  down  the 
gulch.  Whirling,  back-flying  snow  filled  the 
sky  above  the  canon  with  snowflakes  and  snow 
dust.  The  Ferguson  had  run. 

I  climbed  down  the  cleaned-out  gulch  and 
hurried  eagerly  to  have  a  look  at  the  snow  that 


SNOWSLIDES  185 

had  just  run — the  dead  slide — but  it  took  me 
nearly  half  an  hour  to  traverse  the  distance  which 
the  slide  by  actual  timing  had  made  in  fifty-two 
seconds.  Occasionally,  when  there  is  more  snow, 
the  Ferguson  slide  coasts  even  farther  than  this 
one  did,  sometimes  a  quarter  of  a  mile. 

The  big,  white  dump  was  spread  out  over  a 
level  flat  and  covered  a  space  about  three  times 
the  size  of  a  baseball  diamond,  four  feet  deep  in 
places.  A  part  of  the  snow  was  jammed  into 
big,  icy  snowballs,  chunks  as  big  as  a  barrel, 
but  most  of  it  looked  like  coarse  white  sand. 
The  Ferguson  ran  so  often  that  it  kept  the  gulch 
well  cleaned,  and  there  was  but  little  trash  or 
gravel  in  the  snow. 

One  windy  day  I  came  to  a  fresh  snowslide 
dump  where  slides  had  run  down  three  gulches 
that  joined  in  a  canon  and  piled  their  snow  and 
dirt  in  one  huge  heap  to  the  depth  of  nearly 
one  hundred  feet.  A  wagon  road  was  buried. 
But  a  tunnel  had  just  been  opened  through  this 
snowy  blockade.  Remains  of  this  well-packed 
snow  were  still  there  the  fourth  of  the  following 

July. 

Another  day  I  climbed  high  up  on  the  slopes 
of  a  peak,  now  called  Mount  Guyot  I  think, 
surrounded  by  canons  and  steep,  long  slopes 
without  number.  Clinging  to  the  sides  of  one 
of  the  sharp  ridges  that  jutted  out  from  the 


1 86         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

plateau  below  were  enormous  snow  cornices, 
drifted  and  formed  by  the  winter  winds.  I 
saw  several  slides  make  rushing  coasts,  stirring 
up  white  dust  and  filling  the  air  with  crashing 
which  the  echoing  mountain  walls  multiplied  into 
riots. 

Several  times  a  slide  in  running  dislodged 
rock  piles  or  snow  piles  and  these  in  turn  devel- 
oped other  slides,  making  a  tremendous,  con- 
fusing uproar.  An  airplane  in  the  sky  above 
might  have  had  a  show  of  gigantic  snowy  rockets 
and  meteors  as  the  slides  rushed  down  this  slope 
and  that,  exploding  here  and  there  in  dust  col- 
umns as  cliffs  and  walls  were  struck. 

Head-on  a  slide  ran  into  a  canon  wall.  The 
pressure  and  violence  of  striking  had  changed — 
frozen — the  snow  to  ice.  For  more  than  one 
hundred  and  fifty  feet  up  on  the  wall,  ice,  snow, 
and  broken  trees  were  frozen  fast. 

About  noon  a  large  snow  cornice  fell  away 
and  shot  down  the  slope  carrying  numbers  of 
snowdrifts  along  with  it.  After  a  long  run  it 
shot  up  the  slope  opposite,  struck  a  big  circular 
basin,  circled,  and  finally  slid  down  the  wall  of 
this  back  into  its  own  track  where  it  started  up 
the  slope.  It  had  run  a  loop. 

In  the  midst  of  an  uproar  I  could  hear  crashes 
and  booming  from  the  slope  opposite  me.  This 
steep  slope  was  against  a  high  plateau  that 


SNOWSLIDES  187 

faced  me  and  above  this  a  precipitous  walled 
peak  stood  up  in  the  sky  far  above  the  timber- 
line. 

In  rushing  forward  to  see  it  I  narrowly  missed 
running  in  front  of  a  monstrous  breaker  of  a 
slide  that  was  rushing  up  the  slope.  Rocks, 
dirty  snow,  and  broken  trees  were  tumbling  in 
its  front.  Several  broken  trees  stuck  forward 
from  its  front  at  a  dangerous  angle:  two  of 
these  dropped  into  the  snow  in  front  and  were 
explosively  torn  out  and  crushed  beneath  the 
rushing  mass. 

This  slide  was  a  ponderous  and  chaotic  affair. 
It  had  started  on  the  peak  opposite  and  about 
two  thousand  feet  higher  than  where  it  nearly 
caught  me.  Down  more  than  a  mile  of  steep 
slope  it  had  smashed  its  way,  bringing  trash, 
snow,  and  hundreds  of  trees  with  it.  It  must 
have  been  moving  at  high  speed  when  it  reached 
the  bottom,  and  it  was  not  in  low  gear  when  it 
passed  me.  And  I  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  above 
the  bottom. 

On  it  rushed — still  full  of  mountain  momen- 
tum. Less  than  two  hundred  feet  up  the  slope 
it  rushed  over  the  top  of  a  ridge,  rammed  a  gi- 
gantic snow  cornice,  filled  the  air  with  flying 
snow  masses,  and  disappeared  over  the  top  in  a 
whirling  cloud  of  snowy  white.  By  the  time  I 
reached  the  top  it  was  tearing  down  the  slope 


1 88         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

half  a  mile  below,  completely  concealed  behind 
an  enormous  screen  of  snow-dust. 

In  the  spring  one  cannot  be  certain  where  or 
when  a  slide  will  start.  Big  canons  are  joined 
by  several  smaller  canons.  A  slide  may  run 
down  one  of  these  smaller  canons  any  hour. 
But  all  these  slides  run  through  the  big  canon. 
I  had  just  crossed  a  big  canon  when  three  slides, 
each  from  a  smaller  canon,  rushed  by  like  snow 
express  trains. 

Although  slides  run  wild  and  simply  refuse  to 
be  stopped  until  the  coast  is  ended,  they  can  be 
anchored  or  fastened  so  that  they  will  jiot  start. 
In  numerous  canons  and  on  most  slopes  the 
snow  will  not  slip  and  slide  unless  hit  by  rocks 
or  snow  from  overladen  steeps  above.  Many 
mountain  villages  or  mine  buildings  are  effec- 
tively protected  by  anchoring  the  snow  deposit 
which  starts  a  slide  and  makes  the  trouble.  I 
have  seen  slides  corralled  in  this  way — hog-tied 
as  it  were — so  they  could  not  start. 

One  mine  which  I  visited  was  on  a  steep  slope 
above  the  treeline  and  not  far  from  the  top  of 
the  mountains  where  winds  blew  deep  drifts. 
Twice  these  snowdrifts  had  slipped,  and  the  huge 
slides  had  swept  down  upon  the  buildings  and 
carried  them,  smashed,  to  the  bottom  of  the 
canon  a  mile  below.  But  for  several  years 
these  snowdrifts  had  not  slid,  for  they  were 


Photo  by  Enos  A.  Mills 

A  snow  slideway  through  the  woods 


Snow  slide  wreckage 


Photo  by  £nos  A.  Mills 


SNOWSLIDES  189 

securely  anchored  by  four  rows  of  stout  posts 
across  the  slopes  where  snow  accumulated. 
Sometimes  stone  walls  are  used  for  the  purpose. 
The  snow  settles  over,  hangs  on,  is  held  fast. 

At  another  place  a  slide  came  down  a  few  times 
each  winter  between  the  two  main  buildings  of  a 
mine.  As  no  effective  way  had  been  found  to 
anchor  the  snow  two  men  were  placed  on  lookout 
after  each  snowstorm  to  fire  warning  shots  the 
instant  the  slide  started. 

A  slide  may  usually  be  heard.  It  roars  or 
rushes  crashing.  But  down  in  the  bottom  of  a 
canon  where  one  cannot  see  far  ahead  the  echoes 
stirred  by  a  slide  are  confusing.  Mountain 
walls  echo  and  reecho;  canons  commonly  are 
crooked;  it  ofttimes  is  difficult  to  determine  the 
direction  from  which  a  slide  is  approaching. 
Being  run  down  by  a  slide  usually  means  death, 
but  the  number  of  slides  in  any  snowy  locality  is 
not  numerous  and  the  number  of  people  annually 
killed  and  injured  by  them  commonly  is  fewer 
than  a  week's  auto  injuries  in  New  York  City. 

Ice  and  snow  in  any  form  ever  are  slippery. 
Snowslides  are  brought  about  by  heavy  falls  of 
snow  on  steep,  smooth  slopes,  and  by  winds 
which  sweep  the  snow  off  wide  areas  and  drop 
it  in  drifts  at  the  tops  of  slopes.  But  a  snow- 
slide  could  never  occur  in  a  level  country  no 
matter  how  much  snow  accumulated.  I  did, 


190         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

however,  see  a  small,  lively  snowslide  rush  off  a 
big,  steep  barn  roof,  creating  much  excitement 
among  us  boys  who  were  making  a  snow  elephant 
a  few  feet  away. 

Probably  more  slides  move  during  March 
than  in  any  other  month.  Roughly,  there  are 
three  kinds  of  slides,  or  rather,  three  sets  of 
conditions  that  start  slides.  Slides  that  start 
during  or  shortly  after  a  snowfall  from  the  steep 
walls  or  slopes  of  canons  commonly  follow  the 
long-used  channels  made  by  streams  or  snow- 
slides.  These  same  channels  may  often  be  used 
by  the  slide  that  takes  all  winter  to  form.  A 
part  of  each  winter  snowfall  is  drifted  at  the 
top  of  a  mountain  and  after  weeks  a  large  drift 
results.  There  is  a  breaking  up  during  the 
spring  thaw  in  March  and  the  winter's  accumu- 
lation of  snow  slips  and  slides  away.  The  third 
type  of  slide  comes  down  over  rough  places 
where  a  slide  has  not  before  coasted.  A  slide  of 
this  kind  may  be  formed  by  a  wind  from  an 
unusual  quarter  drifting  the  snow  heavily  in  a 
place  where  snow  does  not  ordinarily  drift;  or, 
through  several  years'  accumulation  of  snow  and 
ice,  winter  after  winter  the  pile  grows  larger 
and  at  last  tips  over,  or  its  foundation — through 
much  freezing  and  thawing — gives  way. 

Once  a  slide  starts  there  seems  to  be  no  stop- 
ping it.  It  usually  goes  straight  for  the  bottom 


SNOWSLIDES  191 

and  one  can  see  its  long,  gouged  opening  from 
starting  to  stopping  place.  But  not  always.  A 
slide  in  a  crooked  canon  winds  like  a  stream. 
Often  if  one  starts  down  a  fishhook-bent  gulch 
it  will  follow  the  bends.  But  it  may  jump  over 
a  low  wall;  and,  occasionally,  when  a  slide  is 
speeding  down  a  crooked  gulch,  it  jumps  out. 

I  was  one  day  walking  serenely  along  the  top 
of  a  canon  when  a  slide  in  the  canon  concluded 
to  jump  out.  Wildly  rumbling  and  roaring,  a 
mass  of  snow  and  snow-dust  suddenly  shot  up 
and  out  at  me.  In  the  cloud  of  snow-dust  I 
lost  sight  of  everything.  Then  came  a  rush  of 
wind,  and  through  the  cleared  air  I  saw  the  slide 
turn  a  somersault  out  of  a  canon  and  land  on 
its  back  on  the  wall  opposite.  For  half  a  minute 
or  longer  a  great  white  column  of  smoke  screen 
snow-powder  and  snow-dust  filled  the  canon  and 
rose  higher  and  higher  until  it  was  perhaps  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  high.  In  rushing  down  the 
canon  and  in  ramming  the  wall,  tons  of  snow  and 
ice  had  been  crushed  to  powder  and  this  caught 
up  by  the  excited  air  had  made  a  strange,  grand 
display.  I  had  seen  slides  do  high-jumping, 
dive  over  canons,  side-swipe  a  wall  and  tip  bot- 
tom side  up,  but  this  somersaulting  was  a  new 
stunt  for  slides. 

Well  up  the  slope  above  Hoosier  Pass  I  found 
an  old  snowdrift  which  had  lain  for  years.  It 


192         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

was  more  like  ice  than  snow.  But  there  was  not 
enough  ice  to  make  a  glacier  nor  was  the  rough 
wooded  slope  steep  enough  for  the  ice  and 
snow  to  slide  and  run  down.  So  there  it  lay, 
lasting  through  many  summers  and  getting 
larger  each  year.  It  must  have  weighed  a  few 
thousand  tons.  It  was  top-heavy  and  leaning 
forward.  If  it  fell  to  the  east,  down  a  slope  it 
would  go;  if  it  tumbled  to  the  north,  it  would 
plunge  down  a  gully,  then  down  a  slope.  But 
whichever  way  it  went  a  little  more  of  spring 
warmth  and  its  icy  moorings  would  release  it. 
A  stream  of  water  from  a  spring  thaw  on  a  warm 
slope  was  undermining  one  corner. 

In  crossing  a  canon  to  the  cabin  of  a  pros- 
pector I  looked  back  over  my  shoulder  to  see 
that  it  was  not  starting  as  I  began  to  descend  the 
slope.  But  the  cabin  which  stood  a  stone's 
throw  from  the  bottom  of  the  gully  seemed  safe 
from  snowslides. 

In  the  little  log  cabin  the  prospector  and  I 
had  a  happy  evening.  We  sat  late  by  the  sheet- 
iron  stove  while  I  listened  to  his  experiences  with 
bears,  Indians,  and  snowslides.  In  Idaho  he 
had  worked  two  years  driving  a  tunnel  into  a 
mountain  side.  All  the  wood  burned  during  this 
time  was  from  a  mass  of  forest  wreckage  brought 
down  by  a  slide.  So  big  was  the  pile  that  all 
he  used  made  but  little  showing  on  it. 


SNOWSLIDES  193 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "the  slide  is  likely  to  break 
loose  any  hour.  It  will  smash  through  several 
stretches  of  forest  in  going  down  the  mile  or 
more  of  steep  slope  to  the  bottom  of  the  canon. 
There  will  be  a  vast  pile  of  broken  timber,  rocks 
large  and  small,  and  quantities  of  dirty  snow  and 
ice  in  one  big  mass  together.  But  I  think  the 
cabin  is  secure  from  slides,  although  the  big 
snow-  and  ice-field  when  it  runs  will  come  close 
to  it." 

The  next  morning  I  climbed  into  the  heights 
while  the  prospector  climbed  down  a  short  dis- 
tance to  work  in  a  tunnel.  Thinking  to  see  the 
big  old  ice-  and  snow-field  if  it  started  to  run  I 
kept  in  sight  of  it  most  of  the  day.  But  it  did 
not  move,  although  othets  had  moved  or  were 
moving.  I  saw  a  path  where  a  number  of  slides 
had  run;  two  had  jumped  over  high  cliffs.  I 
heard  others  running  in  deep  canons  where  I 
could  not  see  them,  but  the  steamy  clouds  of 
white  ice-  and  snow-powder  which  rolled  up  out  of 
the  canon  behind  them  were  a  wonder  show. 
Often  one  can  see  this  back  streamer  of  snow- 
dust  from  a  canon  when  the  slide  itself  is  too  far 
away  to  be  heard  or  seen. 

I  found  a  slope  where  two  slides  had  collided. 
One  had  slid  for  half  a  mile  down  a  smooth  slope 
and  developed  speed  enough  to  carry  it  far  up  the 
opposite  slope  when  it  met  another  slide  speed- 


194         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

ing  down.  For  two  hundred  feet  around  the 
snow  was  splashed  with  slide  wreckage;  broken 
trees,  rocks,  and  ice  had  torn  up  the  snow  and 
plastered  the  trees  on  the  side  lines.  It  was  a 
head-on  collision.  But  one  side  of  the  slide 
coming  down  turned  in  after  the  crash  and  kept 
on  going.  After  a  few  hundred  feet  it  jumped 
over  a  cliff  and  wrecked  a  grove  in  the  canon. 

On  the  way  home  I  had  a  surprise,  for  I  did 
not  expect  to  be  taken  as  a  passenger  on  a  slide. 
While  I  was  snowshoeing  down  a  smooth,  steep 
mountain  side  the  snow  suddenly  skinned  off 
and  slid,  and  my  feet  were  knocked  from  under 
me.  It  was  fortunate  I  soon  reached  some  trees 
strong  enough  not  to  break  from  the  shock, 
as  some  did,  for  my  slide  was  just  beginning  to 
get  into  high  speed  when  I  was  spilled  off, 
breathless,  with  my  clothes  torn,  portions  of  the 
slide  jammed  in  my  neck,  and  one  snowshoe  and 
my  hat  missing.  The  snowshoe  I  found  hours 
later  in  the  snow  against  a  tree  stump,  but  not 
my  hat.  I  reached  the  prospector's  cabin  at 
midnight. 

About  ten  o'clock  the  following  morning,  while 
I  was  repairing  clothes  and  snowshoes,  there  came 
a  crash  and  roar  as  though  a  dozen  slides  were 
running  at  once.  Surely  the  old  snow-  and 
ice-field  had  slipped  at  last,  and  I  would  see  it 
run. 


SNOWSLIDES  195 

I  made  a  dash  for  the  top  of  the  woodpile. 
On  the  way  an  enormous  rock,  frozen  to  a  mass 
of  ice,  ripped  through  the  air  and  smashed  off 
a  big  spruce  just  beyond  the  cabin.  Had  it 
struck  the  cabin  only  scattered  kindling  wood 
would  have  remained. 

Then  came  a  rush  of  wind  which  knocked  me 
off  the  woodpile.  The  slide  was  upon  me. 
Chunks  of  snow  fell  about  and  a  wildly  whirling 
cloud  of  snow-dust  hid  everything.  I  clapped  a 
handkerchief  over  my  nose  to  avoid  smothering. 
There  were  rushing,  rumbling,  roaring,  and  trem- 
bling. A  crash,  and  in  the  snow-filled  air  I  saw 
the  flying  logs  of  the  cabin.  A  gust  of  wind 
cleared  the  air  as  the  tail  end  of  the  slide  went 
by.  Full  speed  I  ran  after  it;  the  way  was 
cleared  of  snow,  but  I  was  distanced  in  a  flash. 

The  mountain  side  beyond  the  canon  com- 
menced to  boom,  crash,  and  roar  with  echoes 
thick  and  fast,  telling  of  the  stir  and  intensity 
of  the  slide,  which  was  dashing  through  slide 
rock,  smashing  through  the  woods,  ramming 
cliffs,  exploding  as  it  went  but  never  stopping, 
and  giving  off  enough  snow-dust  for  a  wind- 
storm. 

Yes,  the  old  snow-  and  ice-field  had  tipped  over 
and  come  down  to  the  cabin.  The  mere  edge  of 
the  mass  had  hit  the  cabin.  There  must  have 
been  four  or  five  thousand  tons  of  snow,  ice, 


196         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

gravel,  and  rocks  in  the  mass  that  started.  But 
this  was  small  compared  with  the  quantity  that 
reached  the  bottom  of  the  canon.  Something 
was  added  to  the  slide  every  foot  of  the  way. 
There  were  quantities  of  snow,  rock  piles,  train- 
loads  of  gravel,  huge  rock  fragments  from 
cliffs,  and  several  thousand  forest  trees. 

A  squirrel  who  had  had  his  winter  store  of  cones 
carried  away  and  who  evidently  had  narrowly 
escaped  being  caught,  was  greatly  peeved  with 
this  performance.  He  chattered  and  scolded. 
As  I  came  running  along,  his  peppery  temper 
was  at  its  worst  and  he  seemed  to  be  denouncing 
all  snowslides  and  everything  in  general. 

At  the  bottom  of  a  steep  stretch  the  slide 
had  smashed  through  a  forest,  uprooting  or 
smashing  off  trees  and  making  an  opening 
thirty-four  steps  wide.  At  one  place  it  had 
leaped  and  mowed  off  the  trees  several  feet  above 
the  earth.  Then  mystery!  Four  trees  in  a 
line  were  left  standing,  though  one  of  these 
was  skinned  of  a  quantity  of  its  bark. 

The  ground  beneath  the  slide  had  been  swept 
bare;  grass,  trash,  loose  rocks,  and  snow  were 
cleaned  off  and  carried  away.  The  four-foot 
snow-cover  in  the  woods  on  the  side  lines  was 
splashed  and  covered  with  trash  and  earthy, 
black  snow.  Many  trees  on  the  slide's  edges 
were  barked  and  numbers  were  leaning  forward. 


SNOWSLIDES  197 

Most  limbs  were  torn  off  from  thirty  to  fifty 
feet  above  the  earth.  So  I  suppose  the  slide 
had  been  about  thirty  feet  deep.  Jamming  in 
places  had  caused  it  to  deepen  or  to  throw  up 
ice,  rocks,  or  tree  trunks  into  the  air;  these 
would  smash  things  far  above  the  top  of  the 
rushing  slide. 

The  thing  must  have  been  several  hundred  feet 
long.  Its  wreckage  at  the  bottom  contained 
firewood  enough  to  supply  a  village  for  a  year. 
The  cabin  was  in  the  vast  mass  of  wreckage 
thrown  together  in  fierce  confusion  in  the  bot- 
tom of  the  canon;  also  the  prospector's  winter 
supplies  and  my  snowshoes.  But  I  had  seen  a 
big  slide  run. 


CHAPTER  XV 

BILL   MCCLAIN — PROSPECTOR 

A  BLACK  hungry  dog  came  up  the  snowy 
road  and  stopped  in  front  of  the  Gray- 
bird  boarding  house.  The  miners  were 
just  out  from  dinner,  and  were  enjoying  a  few 
minutes  of  sunshine  before  returning  to  work. 

The  road  was  blockaded  with  ore  wagons  and 
their  teams.  The  drivers  had  stopped  in  front 
of  the  house  to  exchange  greeting  with  the 
miners. 

The  dog  was  a  stranger  in  this  camp  and,  find- 
ing the  road  blockaded,  was  at  a  loss  as  to  the 
best  way  to  turn.  It  was  plain,  too,  that  he 
had  been  mistreated,  and  apparently  he  was 
friendless. 

He  had  barely  stopped,  when  a  miner  in  the 
group  by  the  house  called  "Get  out!"  He 
gave  a  start,  but  hesitated.  "Get  down  the  hill, 
you  cur!"  shouted  another.  The  dog  turned, 
and  gave  an  almost  pathetic  look  down  the 
mountain  road  he  had  just  climbed.  He  low- 
ered his  head,  but  he  did  not  move  his  feet. 
Evidently  he  had  left  a  place  where  his 

198 


BILL  MCCLAIN— PROSPECTOR  199 

treatment  had  been  so  bad  that  he  could  not 
return. 

At  last  he  saw  an  apparent  opening  through 
an  alley  on  his  left.  As  this  led  away  from  the 
miners,  he  raised  his  head  and  started  into  it. 
Just  as  he  entered,  two  well-fed  dogs  pounced 
upon  him  and  forced  him  back  into  the  road. 
Again  he  paused  and  glanced  about  almost  hope- 
lessly, apparently  not  knowing  where  to  turn 
or  what  to  do.  He  was  hungry,  homeless,  and 
everywhere  unwelcome. 

While  he  hesitated,  someone  hurled  an  empty 
box  at  him,  and  several  of  the  miners  yelled 
"Get  out!"  He  dodged  the  box,  but  held  his 
ground.  "Sick  him,  Jim,"  urged  the  miner 
who  threw  the  box.  Jim  was  a  plump  bulldog. 
At  the  forlorn  dog  the  bulldog  leaped. 

The  poor  fellow  gave  one  glance  down  the 
road,  and  then  raised  his  head  in  defiance. 
Though  hungry  and  weak,  he  evidently  thought 
it  would  be  better  to  fight  a  bulldog  and  die 
than  to  return  to  the  place  from  which  ill  treat- 
ment had  driven  him. 

He  had  seen  better  times.  In  fact,  he  had 
fared  well.  He  had,  moreover,  been  useful. 
Until  a  few  weeks  ago,  Joe's  eight  years  of 
life  had  been  comfortably  spent  with  a  kind 
old  prospector,  Pat  Regan.  When  his  mas- 
ter died  Joe  was,  by  accident,  turned  out  to 


200         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

shift  for  himself.  Up  in  the  mountain  snows 
this  was  hard.  No  one  had  any  interest  in  him, 
and  as  for  food,  there  was  almost  none  to  be 
found.  Now  that  he  was  homeless,  the  other 
dogs  in  camp  were  snarly,  and  daily  the  bad 
boys  had  stoned  him.  Driven  from  his  home 
camp,  he  was  fated  to  receive  unkindness  at  the 
first  place  where  he  stopped. 

The  bulldog  sprang  upon  Joe,  and  a  circle 
of  miners  closed  in  to  see  the  fight.  Joe  was  a 
large,  shaggy  fellow,  and  when  not  starved  was 
exceptionally  powerful. 

At  the  start  he  easily  held  his  own,  and 
prevented  the  bulldog  from  doing  him  serious 
injury  or  from  getting  a  deadly  hold.  Of  course, 
in  his  famished  condition,  it  would  be  a  question 
of  only  a  few  minutes  until  he  would  weaken  and 
be  a  victim  of  a  bestial  bulldog. 

"Stop  this  fight!"  came  a  sudden  intense  com- 
mand from  a  tall  miner  with  a  gray  beard.  He 
thrust  men  right  and  left  and  broke  through  the 
circle  as  he  gave  the  command.  "Let  them 
fight, "  roared  a  few.  "Choke  off  your  bulldog," 
he  sternly  demanded.  "Choke  him  off/'  he 
repeated,  "or  I'll  attend  to  you  both,"  he  said 
with  terrible  energy,  as  he  glared  at  the  owner 
of  the  bulldog.  There  were  shouts  and  cheers 
as  the  owner  of  the  bulldog  made  all  haste  and 
stopped  the  fight. 


BILL  MCCLAIN— PROSPECTOR  201 

The  man  with  the  gray  beard  was  Bill  Mc- 
Clain,  an  intelligent  old  prospector  and  miner 
whom  everyone  in  the  district  respected.  "I 
promised  Regan  .  .  .  '  began  McClain.  In- 
stantly there  was  a  silence,  every  eye  was  on  Mc- 
Clain, and  everyone  listened.  He  appeared  to 
be  speaking  to  every  one,  or  to  no  one  except  him- 
self and  Joe.  "I  promised  Regan  that  I  would 
take  care  of  Joe.  Joe,  where  have  you  been 
since  the  day  of  the  funeral  ? — I  have  tried  every- 
where to  locate  you."  With  this  said,  he  started 
for  his  cabin  without  -another  word,  while  Joe, 
with  head  up  and  at  ease,  followed. 

That  evening  George  Williams,  the  owner  of 
the  bulldog,  called  at  the  McClain  cabin.  "I 
have  called  to  apologize,"  he  said.  McClain, 
holding  in  his  hand  an  open  copy  of  a  popular 
magazine,  pointed  to  a  chair.  Joe,  lying  on 
the  floor  with  head  resting  on  his  fore- 
paws,  looked  up  at  Williams  without  a  move. 

"I  thought  there  was  good  metal  in  you,"  re- 
sponded McClain,  "but  I  came  near  letting  you 
go  over  the  dump  to-day." 

"Well,  I  have  disposed  of  the  bulldog  and  done 
some  thinking  since  you  stopped  the  fight,"  fol- 
lowed Williams.  McClain  was  silent  for  a  time, 
and  then  said :  "  I  am  going  to  work  my  claims  up 
Norton  Gulch  as  soon  as  the  snow  is  gone,  and 
Clark,  who  has  the  eastern  extension  of  the  lead 


202         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

I'm  on,  will  also  work  his.  He  wants  a  partner; 
suppose  you  get  out  of  this  camp  and  join  him. 
I'll  arrange  matters  with  him." 

Snowdrifts  still  lingered  here  and  there 
when  McClain  and  his  partner  resumed  work  on 
their  claim  in  Norton  Gulch.  A  few  days  later 
Clark  and  Williams  came  up  and  started  a  tun- 
nel on  the  Clark  claim. 

A  dozen  or  more  prospectors  were  working 
claims  near  by,  and  all  had  cabins  close  to  Mc- 
Clain's.  Joe  came  up  with  his  new  master. 
There  were  half  a  dozen  other  dogs  in  camp,  but 
Joe  was  considered  the  worthy  one,  apparently, 
even  by  the  other  dogs. 

Joe's  old  master  had  given  him  some  good 
training,  and  this  alone,  with  a  large  strain 
of  shepherd  blood,  made  him  a  dog  worth  while. 
During  the  daytime  he  stayed  by  the  cabin. 
Usually  he  lay  quietly,  apparently  not  inter- 
ested in  anything  and  devoid  of  energy.  One 
day,  however,  some  ten  burros,  with  picturesque 
packs,  came  along  and  stopped  by  the  cabin. 
The  door  was  open.  Joe  lay  on  the  ground 
a  few  yards  off,  apparently  asleep.  The  packer 
stopped  to  talk  with  one  of  the  prospectors,  and 
the  burros  took  advantage  of  the  stop  to  bray, 
graze  about,  explore  scrap  piles,  and  examine 
the  display  on  three  clothes  lines.  The  dogs 
of  the  camp  raced  madly  about,  barking  wildly 


BILL  MCCLAIN— PROSPECTOR  203 

and  bravely.  The  burros  gave  no  heed  to  the 
commotion.  Suddenly  a  score  of  long  ears  rose 
alertly,  and  ten  noses  pointed  eagerly  toward 
McClain's  cabin.  The  burros  had  discovered 
its  open  door.  One  burro,  eager  with  curiosity, 
forged  ahead,  evidently  determined  to  eat  every- 
thing in  the  cabin  as  quickly  as  possible,  provided 
his  pack  would  allow  him  to  enter.  He  never 
got  in.  Joe  hurled  himself  at  the  intruder  as 
though  a  giant  had  flung  him.  In  a  minute  not  a 
burro  was  to  be  seen,  but  a  rapidly  drifting  cloud 
of  dust  down  the  gulch  indicated  that  they  were 
still  travelling. 

Regan  had  trained  Joe  to  carry  wood  and 
water.  He  carried  the  wood  one  stick  at  a  time. 
In  getting  water,  he  held  the  bucket  bail  in  his 
teeth,  and  with  a  quick  nod  of  the  head  dipped 
and  filled  the  bucket  at  a  deep  hole  in  the  river. 
Of  course  he  had  a  good  influence  on  the  other 
dogs.  By  the  time  yellow  leaves  on  the  aspen 
told  of  autumn,  the  dogs  were  far  less  noisy, 
and  two  of  them  were  proudly  carrying  in  the 
wood  for  their  masters. 

One  after  another  of  the  prospectors  "went 
out"  for  the  winter,  and  by  the  time  the  snow 
began  falling  there  were  in  the  gulch  only 
McClain,  Clark,  and  Williams.  These  three 
were  so  pleased  with  the  showing  in  their  mines 
that  they  planned  to  remain  all  winter. 


204         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Several  heavy  snows  fell  early.  These  made 
McClain  and  his  friends  uneasy,  for  fear  a  snow- 
slide  should  come  down  the  gulch.  However, 
the  heavy  forest  growth  at  the  head  of  the  gulch 
above  showed  that  a  century  or  longer  had 
elapsed  since  a  slide  had  "run."  This  was  as- 
suring, but  the  snow  continued  frequently  to 
fall,  and  all  agreed  that  it  would  be  well  to  go 
out  before  spring,  the  time  when  most  slides 
loosen  and  run. 

The  snow  continued  falling,  and  in  places  ac- 
cumulated to  great  depth.  At  the  head  of  the 
Norton  Gulch  the  range  rose  precipitously  for 
several  hundred  feet.  This  formed  an  excellent 
starting  place  for  slides.  That  many  slides  had 
started  from  here  was  probable,  but  evidently 
they  had  been  too  small  to  run  down  into  the 
woods. 

The  summit  of  the  range,  being  exposed  to  the 
winds,  was  kept  swept  bare  of  snow.  The  snow 
from  the  summit  accumulated  in  fields  and  cor- 
nices just  to  the  leeward  of  the  crest. 

One  day  McClain  called  the  attention  of  the 
others  to  an  enormous,  almost  unsupported 
snow  cornice  clinging  above  the  head  of  Norton 
Gulch.  After  a  brief  discussion  all  decided  to 
abandon  work  at  once  and  go  down  to  the 
Graybird  in  the  morning. 

That  evening  O'Brien  came  up  on  skees  with 


BILL  MCCLAIN— PROSPECTOR  205 

the  mail  and  told  of  heavy  snows  over  the  state 
and  of  a  number  of  damaging  slides  down  the 
range.  All  went  early  to  bed.  Joe  as  usual 
slept  on  the  floor  by  McClain' s  bunk  in  the  rear 
of  the  cabin. 

Outside  it  was  a  white  winter  night,  cold  but 
not  bitterly  so.  The  almost  full  moon  shone 
from  a  clear  sky,  and,  with  the  snow,  made  a 
subdued,  silvery  and  enchanting  light.  A  little 
past  midnight  McClain  awoke,  and  at  once  arose 
and  dressed.  He  was  a  trifle  uneasy.  Several 
times  he  peered  through  the  window  at  the  range 
above  the  gulch.  It  stood  out  with  surprising 
distinctness  in  the  moonlight.  The  shadow  of 
the  cabin  upon  the  snow  was  as  dark  and  dis- 
tinct as  though  carved  from  coal.  The  air  was 
still,  and  the  slender  scattered  fir  trees  stood 
tall,  dark  towers  in  the  splendid,  silent  night. 
The  deep  shadows  the  moon  made  with  them 
on  the  luminous  snow  stood  out  more  distinctly 
than  the  trees  themselves. 

McClain  sat  down  by  the  window  and  began 
repairing  a  strap  on  one  of  his  skees.  Pausing 
in  his  work  for  a  look  at  the  range,  he  beheld  a 
snow-cloud  covering  the  precipitous  slope.  This 
told  him  that  a  slide  had  started.  As  the  slide 
might  smash  its  way  through  the  forest  and  sweep 
the  gulch,  he  made  a  dash  for  the  other  cabins 
to  awaken  everyone.  Joe  remained  at  home, 


206         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

With  a  roar  and  almost  irresistible  force,  the 
slide  smashed  its  way  through  the  forest  and 
came  thundering  down  upon  the  prospectors. 

McClain  had  awakened  O'Brien,  and  was  in 
the  door  of  Clark's  cabin,  calling  him  and  Wil- 
liams, when  the  slide  swept  over  all.  The  one 
cabin  left  standing  was  the  one  in  which  O'Brien 
had  slept.  All  the  others  were  crushed,  and 
parts  of  them  were  carried  far  down  the  gulch, 
and  left  mingled  with  rocks  and  pieces  of  trees 
which  the  slide  brought  down  from  above. 

Clark  was  carried,  rolled  in  his  blankets, 
several  rods  down  the  gulch,  and  then  dropped 
in  the  snow  without  a  scratch.  He  and  O'Brien 
at  once  began  a  hasty  search  for  the  others.  A 
quarter  of  a  mile  down  the  gulch  they  discovered 
one  of  Williams's  feet  sticking  up  through  the 
snow.  Quickly  digging  him  out,  they  found  him 
uninjured.  Though  he  had  been  half  smothered, 
a  rest  of  an  hour  enabled  him  to  join  in  the 
search  for  McClain. 

A  little  while  after  daylight  they  came  upon 
the  wreck  of  McClain's  cabin.  On  tearing  this 
to  pieces,  they  found  Joe  beneath  with  one 
forefoot  crushed.  They  continued  the  search 
without  cessation  until  mid-afternoon;  but  no 
trace  of  McClain  could  be  found.  The  last 
spot  examined  was  just  below  where  Clark's 
cabin  had  stood.  Here  was  a  mass  of  snow, 


BILL  MCCLAIN— PROSPECTOR  207 

stones,  and  timber.  The  searchers  were  nearly 
exhausted,  and,  feeling  that  by  this  time  McClain 
surely  was  dead,  the  search  was  abandoned  and 
all  hands  started  for  the  Graybird.  The  plan 
was  to  return  on  the  morrow  with  a  number  of 
miners,  and  continue  the  search  for  McClain' s 
body. 

The  instant  Joe  was  dug  out,  he  began  crawl- 
ing around,  smelling  among  the  debris.  He 
appeared  to  realize  that  somewhere  his  master 
must  be  beneath.  He  refused  to  go  with  the 
men,  so  there  was  nothing  else  to  do  but  leave 
him. 

A  short  distance  down  the  gulch  Williams 
stopped.  He  was  troubled  over  leaving  Joe 
behind.  As  he  stood  thinking,  he  heard  the 
echo  of  a  dog's  bark  on  the  mountain  side  above. 
Instantly  he  started  back  to  Joe.  The  other 
men  went  on  down  the  gulch.  When  he  came 
in  sight,  Joe  was  trying  to  dig  with  his  one 
sound  paw.  As  Williams  approached  him,  he 
began  tearing  furiously  at  timbers  with  his 
teeth.  Once  on  the  spot,  Williams  made  haste 
to  pry  the  timbers  apart.  Beneath  lay  McClain. 

Though  unconscious,  badly  bruised,  and  ter- 
ribly chilled,  he  was  still  alive.  In  the  cabin 
Williams  quickly  revived  him.  By  this  time 
the  stars  were  shining. 

As  soon  as  McClain  had  rested  and  eaten  a 


208         WAITING  IN  .THE  WILDERNESS 

little,  he  requested  Williams  to  move  him  at 
once  to  the  Graybird,  as  he  feared  two  of  his 
ribs  were  broken. 

Hurriedly  rigging  a  hand-sled  of  two  pairs  of 
skees,  Williams  wrapped  McClain  in  blankets 
and  bound  him  and  Joe  on  the  sled.  Down 
through  the  gulch  and  over  the  ridge  he  guided 
and  dragged  the  sled.  Safely,  at  last,  he  landed 
Joe  and  his  master  at  the  Graybird  Mine. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

AN    OPEN    SEASON    ON    NATURE    STORIES 

ON  THE  northern  slope  of  Battle  Moun- 
tain one  March  day  I  came  upon  a  hole 
in  a  deep  snowdrift.  Dirty  tracks 
showed  that  a  grizzly  had  come  from  his  winter 
hibernating  den.  I  had  read  in  numerous  stor- 
ies that  any  bear  is  terribly  hungry  and  ferocious 
after  the  long  hibernating  fast  of  four  or  five 
months;  that  in  this  starving  condition,  with 
food  scarce,  even  the  shy  black  bear  will  attack 
people,  while  a  grizzly  in  the  springtime  is  so 
desperate  with  hunger  that  he  will  go  out  of  his 
way  and  even  attack  an  armed  hunter.  All  this 
seemed  natural. 

As  this  den  was  above  timberline  and  about 
four  miles  from  my  cabin,  I  commenced  to  figure 
on  the  possibilities  of  this  grizzly  overhauling 
me  before  I  reached  home.  I  noticed  the  wind, 
and  travelled  so  that  he  would  not  scent  me; 
for  a  grizzly  sometimes  has  word  through  his 
keen  nose  of  the  presence  of  a  man  a  mile  or 
more  distant.  I  was  just  a  boy,  and  not  a  large 
one,  but  I  was  enjoying  life  and  had  made  plans 

209 


210         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

for  years  to  come  and  did  not  want  this  grizzly 
to  assimilate  me. 

I  had  gotten  down  into  the  woods  and  was 
about  two  miles  from  home  when  I  came  upon 
the  grizzly's  track  again.  My  head  would  have 
made  a  good  scrubbing  brush — the  way  the  hair 
stood  up  stiffly.  Just  what  I  might  have  done 
had  the  grizzly  suddenly  appeared  cannot  be 
guessed,  but  I  turned  aside  and  went  a  mile  out 
of  the  way  to  avoid  going  through  dense  woods. 

I  began  to  feel  less  serious  when  my  cabin 
was  only  half  a  mile  off.  Most  of  the  remaining 
way  was  open  with  scattered  pines.  Ahead  ot 
me  I  could  see  what  looked  like  the  track  of  my 
pony;  this  was  cheering.  But  when  I  came  to 
these  tracks — they  were  the  grizzly's!  Surely 
he  must  be  hungry,  to  come  down  so  close. 
I  hardly  knew  whether  to  go  home  or  not.  I 
took  the  precaution  to  circle  the  cabin  at  good 
distance  to  see  that  the  grizzly  was  not  hidden 
behind  it  or  lying  in  wait  in  the  woodpile.  Not 
seeing  him,  nor  his  tracks,  I  went  on  home. 

This  happened  about  thirty  years  ago.  Dur- 
ing the  years  since  then  I  have  been  much 
among  grizzlies,  and  have  known  them  to  eat 
anything  under  the  sun  that  is  edible,  except 
human  flesh. 

Some  unusual  situation  might  arise  that 
would  cause  a  grizzly  to  attack  a  man  without 


AN  OPEN  SEASON  211 

being  first  cornered  or  attacked;  but  not  one 
has  ever  attacked  me.  In  every  case  that  I 
have  seen,  when  they  attacked  they  were  chased, 
cornered,  or  wounded,  and  were  fighting  in  self- 
defence,  or  fighting  because  they  thought  it  their 
only  hope. 

I  saw  a  grizzly  cornered  and  killed  the  second 
day  after  he  came  out  of  his  hibernating  den. 
A  grizzly  after  hibernation — after  fasting  for 
four  months  and  sleeping  most  of  the  time — is 
supposed  to  come  out  hungry,  ragged,  and 
weak.  But  this  grizzly  evidently  had  not  read 
how  he  was  expected  to  perform.  After  being 
chased  by  dogs  through  snow  for  a  half  day 
and  cornered,  he  acted  as  though  for  at  least 
four  months  he  had  been  training  for  the  fight 
of  his  life. 

The  grizzly,  cornered  between  deep  snowdrifts 
and  a  rocky  wall,  was  fighting  the  dogs  when  we 
galloped  up.  Realizing  that  to  escape  he  must 
cut  his  way  out,  he  proceeded  to  do  so. 

There  were  two  hunters  and  several  dogs. 
When  the  scrap  started  I  "spectatored"  from  a 
safety-first  spruce  limb  twenty  feet  up.  I  had 
several  good  looks  at  the  grizzly  in  action  as  he 
rushed  the  line.  He  was  mad,  but  not  at  all 
worried.  Like  lightning  he  leaped,  jumped, 
dodged,  and  struck  right  and  left  whenever 
the  dogs  crowded  too  close. 


212         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Suddenly  one  of  the  hunters  called,  "Look 
out! — he's  coming!"  I  broke  tree-climbing  rec- 
ords; my  horse  broke  his  rope,  and  I  did  not  catch 
up  with  him  for  two  days.  Meantime,  there 
was  barking  and  yelping  of  dogs,  bang,  whang  of 
rifles,  and  crashings  of  brush.  The  grizzly  scat- 
tered things  like  a  well-placed  high  explosive 
shell. 

He  got  through  the  line  but  fell  dead  a  short 
distance  beyond.  Three  of  the  dogs  were  dead, 
one  so  badly  injured  that  it  was  shot,  two  others 
had  broken  legs,  and  one  of  the  horses  received 
a  right  or  left  swing  that  cracked  two  ribs.  One 
of  the  hunters  went  to  the  hospital  with  a 
broken  shoulder. 

The  grizzly  was  fat.  In  dressing  him  his 
stomach  was  cut  open.  There  was  not  room  in 
it  for  a  mouse.  Through  long  fasting  it  had  been 
almost  closed  by  the  stomach  walls  contracting. 
This  contraction  during  hibernation  is  common. 

Generally  a  grizzly  does  but  little  eating  for 
ten  days  or  longer  after  coming  out  of  the  winter 
den.  He  is  not  hungry.  He  is  fat  and  strong 
from  long  sleep  and  rest;  and,  besides,  his  stom- 
ach is  so  nearly  closed  from  long  disuse  that  he 
could  hardly  eat  a  snowbird.  But  I  did  not 
know  these  things  about  a  grizzly  that  day  com- 
ing off  Battle  Mountain.  However,  it  would  not 
surprise  me  to  see  in  print  before  the  end  of  a 


AN  OPEN  SEASON  213 

year  a  story  about  a  bear  rushing  hungry  from 
his  hibernating  den  and  assailing  a  man  with  the 
intention  of  ferociously  eating  him. 

Just  now  bears  are  becoming  scarce  and  there 
is  need  for  every  boy  to  understand  them.  Bears 
are  practically  harmless;  they  eat  many  pests; 
they  are  among  the  most  interesting  of  animals; 
and  they  are  in  danger  of  extermination. 

Sometimes  I  hope  to  find  a  beaver  family — 
two    grown    ones    and    several    children — who 
understand  English,  that  I  may  read  to  them  a 
number  of  statements  that  have  been  printed 
about  beavers.     These  would  be:    . 
Beavers  are  always  at  work. 
They  live  on  fish. 
They  regulate  the  weather. 
They  use  their  tails  for  trowels  and  hammers. 

In  a  standard  encyclopedia  printed  about  ten 
years  ago  we  read  that  beavers  make  a  dam  by 
driving  stakes  in  a  line  across  a  stream,  and  then 
weave  willows  and  small  trees  between  these 
stakes.  These  stakes,  too,  where  the  water  is 
strong,  are  sometimes  as  thick  as  a  man's  thigh. 
This  same  story  was  printed  in  another  book 
about  four  hundred  years  ago. 

Beavers  have  good  teeth  and  could  sharpen  a 
stake  of  this  kind,  but  what  kind  of  a  club,  maul, 
or  hammer  one  would  use  in  driving  it  down  has 
not  been  told;  although  one  book  about  two 


214         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

hundred  years  old  says  that  he  drove  it  with 
his  tail.  The  beaver's  tail  is  rubbery,  is  a 
good  stuffed  club,  but  would  hardly  do  for  pile 
driving. 

Then  to  this  assembled  and  attentive  beaver 
family  I  would  read  that  beavers  saw  trees  down 
with  their  tails,  that  they  may  claim  relationship 
to  the  sawfish;  and  read  still  further  that  a 
beaver  skilfully  uses  his  tail  as  a  trowel  and 
might  thus  be  eligible  to  join  the  masons' 
union. 

When  they  had  stopped  laughing  and  rolling 
about  with  amusement,  I  would  read  very  sol- 
emnly to  them  that  they  were  the  greatest 
weather  prophets  on  earth,  and  that  so  long  as 
beavers  live  the  Weather  Bureau  is  one  hundred 
per  cent,  non-essential.  After  their  faces  had 
become  solemn  and  prophetic,  I  would  read  fur- 
ther that  the  weather  for  months  to  come  can  be 
known  in  advance  each  winter  by  the  quantity 
of  winter  food  harvested,  by  the  thickness  of 
mud  plastering  put  on  the  house,  and  by  other 
dependable  autumn  preparations. 

If  after  all  these  they  were  not  yet  asleep, 
I  might  read  the  whopper  of  all.  But  first 
let  us  remember  that  the  beaver  does  know  a 
number  of  things.  Most  beavers  build  a  sub- 
stantial dam  and  a  house  that,  with  repairs,  lasts 
for  years;  they  dig  wonderful  canals;  and  they 


AN  OPEN  SEASON  215 

are  water  engineers  and  pretty  good  woodsmen. 
Although  good  workers  when  they  need  to  work, 
yet  beavers  avoid  all  useless  work.  Being 
efficient  fellows,  doing  their  best  and  planning 
ahead,  they  need  to  do  but  little  work — say, 
not  more  than  a  month  or  two  each  year — and 
play  the  remainder  of  the  time. 

So  imagine  a  beaver,  who  puts  in  weeks  at  a 
time  exploring  the  wilds  or  playing  with  other 
beavers — imagine  this  successful,  good-natured 
loafer  having  stories  written  about  him  that  tell 
of  his  working  every  day,  rising  at  four  in  the 
morning,  and  never  stopping  to  have  a  picnic 
or  to  comb  his  thick  fur.  Well,  I  would  not 
bore  them  by  reading  such  solemn  sermons,  be- 
cause beavers  would  think  that  something  must 
be  wrong  with  my  education,  and  that  safety 
first  called  them  to  dive  into  deep  water. 

Beavers  are  vegetarians,  live  chiefly  on  bark, 
with  grass  and  berries  incidental.  They  do  not 
eat  meat  and  fish.  But  ever  so  often  we  read 
of  beavers  ruining  the  fishing  by  hogging  all  the 
fish.  The  next  time  a  beaver  shows  his  head  I 
may  ask  him  what  kind  of  bait  is  used,  and  if  he 
loafs  on  the  bank,  smoking,  while  waiting  for  a 
bite. 

Hunters  say  that  wild  geese  and  loons  are 
wide-awake  people  and  that  skill  is  needed  to  get 
within  shooting  distance.  Just  how  it  came 


216         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

about  that  many  people  think  a  goose  has  a  fool- 
ish head  is  more  than  I  can  guess.  It  is  com- 
mon, too,  to  hear  "as  crazy  as  a  loon,"  yet  a 
loon  is  about  as  far  from  the  crazy  point  as  any 
bird  that  flies. 

Stories  send  whole  flocks  of  mountain  sheep 
diving  over  cliffs  or  precipices  with  arms  folded. 
Head  on,  they  land  at  the  bottom,  their  large, 
springy  horns  striking  first  and  acting  as  shock 
absorbers.  With  this  kind  of  a  portable  mattress 
on  his  head,  the  sheep  does  not,  like  the  circus 
performer,  need  any  one  to  place  a  thick  mattress 
or  a  water  tank  for  safe  terminal  facilities. 

Twice  I  have  seen  sheep  land  upon  their  shock- 
breaking  horns,  but  as  this  style  of  landing  each 
time  broke  the  neck  of  the  sheep,  it  was  not  tried 
again.  Ewes,  and  little  lambs — as  well  as  the 
rams — make  jumps  overboard,  and  as  high  and 
as  daring  ones  as  the  rams;  but  the  horns  of  the 
ewes  are  tiny,  and  the  lambs  do  not  have  horns. 
So  I  suppose  when  this  jumping  story  is  revised 
and  corrected,  it  will  tell  that  the  ewes  and  Iambs 
ride  through  the  air  on  the  backs  of  the  rams, 
like  Mother  Witch  on  a  broomstick. 

The  stories  about  fights  of  big,  owl-eyed  divers 
with  sharks,  and  devil-fish  or  octopuses  used  to 
thrill  me.  Later,  when  I  visited  the  Florida 
coast,  and  while  doing  a  little  sailing  off  southern 
California,  I  asked  sailors  about  fights  with  the 


AN  OPEN  SEASON  217 

fierce  fellows  in  the  canons  and  caves  of  the 
sea  bottoms.  They  laughed.  And  twice  I 
asked  captains  who  had  sailed  around  the  world 
about  their  escapes  from  sharks  and  those  giant 
spiders  of  the  sea.  They  also  laughed.  Then, 
one  day  I  called  on  a  retired  captain  who  had  been 
a  pearl  hunter,  a  diver,  an  explorer  of  sea  bottoms, 
and  a  hunter  after  the  gold  in  sunken  ships. 
"It  may  be  true,"  he  said,  "that  sharks  and 
octopuses  occasionally  devour  or  drown  someone, 
but  I  have  not  seen  them  do  it,  and  I  think  that 
these  stories,  as  Mark  Twain  said  of  the  report 
of  his  own  death,  are  'greatly  exaggerated'." 

I  have  had  many  a  hunt  for  ghosts,  for  frogs 
that  made  warts,  and  for  ostriches  that  hid  their 
heads  in  the  sand;  for  ground-hogs  who  carried 
thermometers,  furs,  snowshoes,  snow-glasses, 
foot-warmers,  and  extra  heavy  sleeping  bags  for 
all  kinds  of  weather;  but  never  has  any  one  of 
these  performed  for  me. 

And  then  there  are  skunks,  not  bad  fellows, 
always  brushed  and  clean.  They  have  given  me 
more  surprises  than  any  wild  fellow  that  I  think 
of.  In  Arizona  I  was  expecting  every  night  to 
be  bitten  by  a  hydrophobia  skunk,  but  every 
morning  I  was  surprised  to  find  that  I  had  not 
yet  gone  mad,  and  during  the  day  I  was  sur- 
prised not  to  find  someone  running  amuck  who 
had  been  vaccinated  by  them. 


218         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Frequently  in  the  wilds  I  sat  still  for  hours. 
I  often  had  many  surprises  in  the  way  of  visiting 
birds  and  animals  who  came  near.  Several 
times  a  single  skunk  came  near,  and  three  or  four 
times  a  mother  skunk  and  children.  I  knew 
that  each  of  the  family  had  a  surprise  concealed 
on  its  person,  and  I  was  surprised  that  nothing 
was  thrown  at  me. 

Then  another  day  I  was  many  times  sur- 
prised. Bees  were  buzzing  about,  and  while  I 
was  edging  off  from  them,  I  butted  into  a  willow 
that  was  bending  beneath  a  business  gathering 
of  a  few  hundred  bees.  They  raised  several 
points  of  order  on  me,  and  in  getting  away,  I  took 
a  header  over  thick  brush  and  crashed  down 
almost  upon  the  spraying  end  of  a  skunk.  This 
was  a  surprise.  But  the  range  was  high  and  the 
bees  who  met  it  turned  tail.  As  I  ran  on  I  began 
to  understand  how  skunks,  as  I  had  heard,  had 
put  hornets  to  rout,  and  had  eaten  a  hornet's 
house  and  contents. 

Most  wild  life  are  not  tramps  and  gypsies 
but  are  likely  to  spend  their  days  and  finally 
die  not  far  from  where  they  were  born.  John 
Burke  wrote  me  that  for  three  years  he  kept 
track  of  a  rabbit  with  a  slit  ear;  and  that  for  four 
summers  the  same  robin  returned  to  nest  near 
the  window  of  his  room. 

A  chipmunk  had  a  den  in  a  V-shaped  strip 


AN  OPEN  SEASON  219 

of  ground  between  two  brooks,  at  one  end  of  my 
cabin.  If  another  chipmunk  dared  to  come  into 
it,  he  was  promptly  chased  off;  this  particular 
land  was  claimed  by  the  chipmunk  who  owned 
the  den;  he  even  objected  to  other  chipmunks 
crossing  it.  But  one  day  he  had  jumped  across 
the  brook  and,  standing  on  tiptoe,  reached  up 
and  pulled  down  a  big  white  lily  and  was  stuff- 
ing it  into  his  mouth  with  both  hands,  when  an- 
other chipmunk  who  had  a  den  near  and  claimed 
all  the  good  things  on  this  tract  of  land,  rushed 
up  and  kicked  my  chipmunk  into  the  brook. 
My  chipmunk  often  played,  and  often  sat  watch- 
ing the  bluebirds  and  other  chipmunks. 

Most  birds  and  animals  have,  or  claim,  a  home 
territory — a  plot  of  land  on  which  they  spend 
their  lives — and  they  insist  that  other  folks  of 
like  species  keep  off.  They  are  extremely  par- 
ticular about  invasions  and  the  boundary  line. 
I  knew  of  a  beaver  who  made  his  home  for 
eighteen  years  in  one  pond,  and  a  grizzly  who 
claimed  that  all  other  grizzlies  had  no  business 
in  the  spruce  lake  region — and  he  was  there  to 
see  that  no  invaders  got  too  far  in.  This  grizzly 
often  played,  and  had  many  a  coast  in  the  snow. 
Once,  somewhat  like  two-legged  folks,  he  went 
off  on  a  trip  more  than  one  hundred  miles  away. 
But  he  returned  in  less  than  two  weeks. 

Most  birds  and  animals  work  fewer  days  than 


220         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

most  people;  and  when  it  comes  to  playing,  they 
do  this  regularly  and  often  the  year  round. 

Originally,  this  round  world  of  ours  was  solid 
rock.  Frost,  chemical  action,  the  wear  and 
tear  of  wind  and  water  caused  the  outside  to 
decay.  In  many  localities  the  soil  covering  of 
the  earth  is  not  more  than  a  foot  thick;  areas  in 
valleys  and  lowlands  may  be  many  feet,  even 
hundreds  of  feet  thick,  but  in  most  localities  a 
boy  with  pick  and  shovel  can,  in  a  day,  dig 
down  to  solid  rock.  And  in  mountainous  regions 
the  bony  rocks  of  the  earth  are  without  any  soil 
covering. 

In  dry  regions  of  the  West  it  is  generally  neces- 
sary to  go  down  from  fifty  to  a  few  hundred  feet, 
mostly  through  rock,  before  water  is  struck  be- 
tween rock  layers.  Yet  every  once  in  a  while  we 
hear  the  story  that  the  prairie  dog  digs  down 
to  water.  Some  digger!  Of  course,  having  so 
much  room  in  these  long,  deep  holes,  something 
must  be  done  with  the  room.  Commonly  a 
part  of  the  same  story  says  that  prairie  owls  and 
rattlesnakes,  which  are  fond  of  fat  dog,  live  in  the 
holes  with  the  dogs.  Prairie  dogs,  with  their 
large  towns  and  villages,  live  in  a  way  that  is 
full  of  interest,  and  among  their  interesting 
activities  is  that  of  keeping  water  and  snakes 
beyond  the  city  limits. 

Prairie  dogs,   antelope,   birds,   and,   in   fact, 


AN  OPEN  SEASON  221 

nearly  all  life  on  the  desert,  use  but  little  water 
and  go  long  periods  without  any.  Camels  have 
developed  a  hump  or  lump  in  which  usually 
is  stored  condensed  food,  and  an  inner  tank  in 
which  water  is  stored,  and  these  kinds  of  pre- 
paredness enable  him  to  travel  for  days  without 
food  or  water.  Many  kinds  of  desert  plants 
have  some  sort  of  a  water  storage  tank  that  is 
filled  during  wet  times  and  drawn  on  during 
dry  periods.  But  of  course  all  plants  and  ani- 
mals simply  have  adapted  themselves  to  condi- 
tions, and  these  conditions  on  the  desert  require 
them  to  get  along  with  less  water  than  does  the 
life  elsewhere. 

The  prairie  dog's  deep  digging  is  one  of  the 
stories  that  have  come  from  dry-land  life;  an- 
other story  says  that  every  day  some  desert  birds 
go  for  water  one  hundred  miles  or  so,  while  others 
have  secret  reservoirs  beneath  cactus  to  which 
they  resort  each  night,  have  a  few  drinks,  then  so 
thoroughly  camouflage  the  covering  that  only 
on  rare  occasions  has  any  one  ever  discovered 
this  non-leak  water  pocket. 

There  still  are  too  many  erroneous  beliefs  on 
the  earth  concerning  wild  life.  The  sea  used  to  be 
thickly  covered  with  superstitions.  Everyone 
told  Columbus  it  could  not  be  done  because  off  in 
the  West  the  sea  was  boiling;  that  in  places  it  was 
filled  with  men-  and  ship-swallowing  monsters, 


222         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

and  no  ship  that  had  gone  beyond  a  certain  dis- 
tance had  ever  returned.  But  Columbus  sailed. 
Then,  too,  there  was  the  Roman  admiral  who 
was  told  not  to  fight  a  sea  battle  for  which  he  was 
ready,  because  the  sacred  chickens  had  that 
morning  refused  to  eat.  But  the  Admiral  only 
said  that  then  they  must  have  water,  and  threw 
chickens,  coops  and  all,  into  the  sea  and  pro- 
ceeded to  capture  the  fleet  of  the  enemy. 

There  still  are  many  superstitions  concerning 
high  mountains.  Eggs  are  not  supposed  to 
hatch  more  than  a  mile  above  sea-level,  but  the 
ptarmigan,  rosy  finch,  and  others  have  not 
heard  of  this,  so  they  hatch  eggs  in  nests  two  and 
a  half  miles  above  whale  hunters. 

Chamois  and  mountain  sheep  will  continue 
to  be  great  athletes  until  the  news  gets  to  them 
that  altitude  is  harmful.  And  sickly  lowlanders 
revive  if  sent  to  high  altitudes.  Altitude  is 
helpful. 

Lightning  is  the  most  striking  thing  out- 
doors. It  seems  to  have  habits,  and  some- 
times it  does  the  unexpected.  When  a  boy,  I 
often  heard  that  lightning  did  not  strike  certain 
kinds  of  trees,  and  that  there  were  other  kinds 
on  which  there  seemed  to  be  an  open  season  and 
a  special  bounty  for  smashing.  But  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  lightning  will,  or  may,  hit  any  tree;  but  a 
lone  tree  is  a  little  more  likely  to  be  shocked 


AN  OPEN  SEASON  223 

than  those  in  company;  and  a  broad-leafed — 
cottonwood  say — more  likely  than  a  pine,  simply 
because  it  has  little  or  no  pitch  and  is  a  better 
conductor  than  the  pitch-blooded  pine.  And  a 
tree  rooted  in  wet  soil  is  a  better  conductor  for 
the  juice  than  a  tree  rooted  in  a  dry  spot.  But 
as  I  said,  any  tree  may  get  struck. 

Lightning,  I  had  heard,  never  struck  a  beech 
tree.  But  in  more  than  one  state  where  I  have 
seen  beeches,  old  trees  showed  that  they  had  been 
hit  hard,  and  a  few  had  been  whacked  twice. 

Then,  too,  lightning  does  strike  more  than 
once  in  the  same  place.  I  have  seen  many  trees 
with  three  or  more  lightning  marks  on  them, 
and  a  pine  one  mile  from  my  cabin  was  struck 
fourteen  times  in  about  twenty-two  years,  and 
these  shocks  did  not  kill  it. 

Lightning  may  strike  high  peaks,  but  it  is 
more  likely  to  strike  in  lowlands.  Often  a  thun- 
der storm  is  down  on  the  side  of  the  mountain 
with  the  high  peaks  sticking  up  through  the 
clouds  in  the  sunlight.  So  there  is  no  sense  in 
being  more  frightened  about  lightning  on  a 
mountain  top  than  elsewhere;  for,  on  the  whole, 
there  is  less  danger  on  a  14,000  foot  peak  than  in 
the  Mississippi  Valley. 

All  over  the  continent  I  went  camping  with- 
out any  lightning  rod  sticking  up  over  me,  and 
never  expected  to  be  struck.  I  was  often  told 


224         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

that  lightning  never  struck  a  mulberry  tree,  and 
many  times  was  advised  to  take  refuge  under  one. 
But  I  did  not  sit  down  against  a  big  tree  during  a 
storm.  Early  I  realized  that  if  I  tried  to  run 
away  from  lightning  I  might  run  the  wrong 
way.  Lightning  was  never  on  my  nerves. 

One  day  a  violent  lightning  storm  boomed  and 
rumbled  around  me,  and  occasionally  I  heard  a 
smash  as  though  something  had  been  struck.  A 
tree  several  steps  away  showed  that  it  had 
been  branded  by  lightning.  It  was  a  mulberry 
tree.  I  was  in  another  mulberry  eating  berries. 
Suddenly  a  high  explosive  dropped  from  on  high 
and  smashed  one  side  off  a  mulberry  not  twenty 
feet  from  me. 

Any  one  who  has  camped  knows  that  there  are 
twelve  good  months  in  the  year,  each  of  which 
might  be  called  the  camper's  delight.  Each 
month  is  more  than  ninety  per  cent,  interesting; 
it  may  have  some  spots  in  it  not  to  one's  liking, 
but  each  has  a  number  of  special  prizes,  and 
lucky  is  the  camper  who  has  enjoyed  the  outdoors 
in  every  month. 

Outdoors  in  January  there  are  no  flies, 
mosquitoes,  snakes,  rain,  sunstroke,  jiggers, gnats, 
and  flu.  But  coasting,  skating,  tracking,  and 
the  camp-fire  are  at  their  best.  On  through  the 
months  the  birds,  flowers,  trees,  and  animals  are 
doing  something,  often  exciting,  that  is  not  done 


AN  OPEN  SEASON  225 

in  any  other  month.  Colds  are  caught  mostly 
in  a  house,  by  those  who  live  with  windows  closed 
and  who  eat  enough  for  a  camper  without  being 
one. 

Years  ago,  when  much  of  the  outdoors  was 
considered  of  low  value,  many  people  camped 
in  the  Yellowstone  Park.  In  such  a  sloppy  con- 
dition did  they  leave  camps  that  the  soldiers 
who  cleaned  up  these  camps  called  them  "pig 
pens."  But  boy  campers  are  becoming  more 
numerous.  Scouts,  woodcrafters,  and  camp- 
fire  girls  understand  wild  life  and  set  good  ex- 
amples by  leaving  camping  places  in  clean  con- 
dition. 

I  was  following  the  trail  of  some  friendly 
Indians  several  years  ago,  and  was  to  get  a  pair 
of  moccasins  which  they  were  to  leave  near 
camp,  in  a  tree.  After  two  hours'  search  the 
moccasins  were  discovered  dangling  from  a  tree 
limb.  Although  about  a  dozen  Indians  had 
spent  two  nights  and  a  day  in  camp,  so  careful 
had  they  been,  so  completely  had  they  cleaned 
the  place,  that  I  could  not  be  certain  just  where 
this  camp  site  was. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

NATURE    GUIDING   AT    HOME 

E,Y  LAKE,  two  miles  from  my  cabin,  was 
a  large  beaver  pond  which  the  Arapahoe 
Indians  called  Beaver  Lodge  Lake.   There 
were  a  number  of  beaver  houses  in  it.     A  year 
before  I  came  into  the  scene  the  lake  temporarily 
went  dry  and  the  beavers  migrated  down  into 
Wind  River  Canon,  to  the  west  of  the  lake.     A 
high,  rocky  mountain  rose  to  the  north  of  this 
lake,  a  grassy  border  was  on  the  south,  and  near 
the  east  shore  was  a  forest. 

The  lake  refilled  and  continued  to  be  a  wild- 
life water  hole  where  birds  and  animals  fre- 
quently came,  and  sometimes  gathered  in  num- 
bers. Often  I  visited  the  lake,  and  among  the 
callers  whom  I  occasionally  saw  were  bears, 
wildcats,  mountain  lions,  mountain  sheep,  snow- 
shoe  rabbits,  eagles,  and  many  other  kinds  of 
birds. 

It  was  a  never-ending  surprise  to  me  that  so 
many  live  things  came  to  one  place,  and  that  so 
many  different  ways  of  birds  and  animals  could 
be  learned  in  one  little  spot. 

226 


NATURE  GUIDING  AT  HOME  227 

The  animals  and  birds  had  fights,  feasts,  and 
plays.  I  saw  many  of  these  wild-life  exhibitions 
— real  movies.  By  going  frequently  to  this 
lake  I  often  saw  the  beaver  inhabitants  and  I 
learned  a  number  of  lively  facts  concerning 
many  species  of  birds  and  animals. 

So  interesting  was  this  place  that  for  many 
years  I  went  to  it  during  every  season  of  the 
year,  and  by  moonlight  as  well  as  by  daylight. 
Early  one  morning  I  saw  a  beaver  with  an  un- 
usually flat  back  come  climbing  up  out  of  Wind 
River  Canon  with  several  other  beavers  follow- 
ing him.  I  named  him  Flattop,  and  during  the 
eighteen  years  that  followed  I  occasionally  saw 
him  in  or  by  the  lake.  A  number  of  times  I 
watched  him  and  other  beavers  cutting  trees 
and  dragging  them  into  the  lake. 

One  windy  winter  day  big  ice  cakes  smashed 
the  beaver  house  and  a  number  of  its  inhabitants 
went  down  to  the  beaver  colony  in  Wind  River 
Canon.  Three  of  these  were  killed  on  the  way, 
as  fur  and  blood  on  the  snow  plainly  showed. 

One  rainy  day  while  I  was  hidden  and  watch- 
ing Flattop  cut  down  a  large  aspen,  a  number  of 
mountain  sheep  came  into  the  scene.  The  ram 
leading  saw  Flattop  and  walked  toward  him 
pretending  he  was  going  to  butt.  Flattop 
stopped  gnawing  on  the  aspen  and  stood  watch- 
ing the  ram,  without  a  move.  The  ram  smelled 


228         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

him,  stamped  two  or  three  times,  then  walked 
away. 

By  the  lake  I  learned  to  identify  many  birds 
and  animals,  also  flowers  and  trees.  In  addition 
to  identification,  I  learned  a  number  of  the  ways 
of  each  of  these  living  visitors  to  the  lake,  and  of 
those  who  lived  in  and  by  it.  For  several  weeks 
I  watched  a  ground-hog  near  his  den  on  the 
west  shore  without  knowing  that  he  was  a 
ground-hog.  I  noticed  that  the  aspen  grew  in 
moist  places,  bloomed  before  its  leaves  came  out, 
and  that  it  was  the  favourite  tree  used  by 
beavers,  before  I  could  learn  its  name  and  long 
before  I  learned  its  identification  marks. 

After  seeing  Flattop  around  the  lake  for  a 
number  of  years  I  realized  that  most  birds  and 
animals  cannot  be  called  gypsies.  They  have  a 
regular  home  near  which  they  are  ever  found. 
Most  of  them  live  and  die  in  the  locality  in 
which  they  are  born.  They  claim  a  home  terri- 
tory and  generally  try  to  keep  others  of  the  same 
species  from  using  this.  Even  the  water  birds, 
and  the  white-crowned  sparrows  that  nested 
around  the  shore,  came  back  to  the  lake  after 
wintering  hundreds  of  miles  south.  Three  times 
a  white-crown  built  in  the  same  willow. 

A  little  black  bear  was  swimming  in  the  lake 
one  evening  when  I  arrived.  Two  claws  were 
missing  from  the  left  forefoot  print  in  his  track 


After  seven  years  of  getting  acquainted  a  Bighorn  eats 
salt  from  the  hand  of  Enos  A.  Mills 


NATURE  GUIDING  AT  HOME  229 

along  the  muddy  shore.  Once  I  saw  this  little 
bear  tearing  a  log  to  pieces  near  the  outlet  of 
the  lake;  another  time  he  was  catching  mice  in 
the  grass  near  the  south  shore.  His  territory 
was  around  this  lake.  I  often  tracked  him,  but 
never  did  these  tracks  lead  more  than  two  miles 
from  the  lake. 

The  same  lion  was  three  times  seen  near  the 
lake.  A  ground-hog  was  seen  so  often  that  he 
came  out  and  rolled  in  the  sand,  or  ate  dande- 
lions within  a  few  yards  of  me,  only  moving 
enough  to  prevent  my  stepping  upon  him  when  I 
walked  by  his  home.  After  watching  the  ground- 
hog for  six  summers,  a  coyote  who  had  lived 
near  by  for  three  years  at  last  surprised  him  too 
far  from  his  den. 

About  midway  between  my  cabin  and  the  lake 
was  another  ground-hog  which  I  saw  occasionally 
through  five  summers.  In  going  to  and  from 
the  lake  I  often  saw  the  same  chipmunk,  or 
the  same  snowshoe  rabbit  in  its  exclusive  home 
territory. 

The  trees  along  my  trail  to  the  lake  I  saw 
every  month  of  the  year.  I  noticed  where  the 
gentians  lived,  that  their  first  bloom  was  close 
to  the  first  day  of  August,  and  that  the  first 
yellow  leaves  were  certain  to  be  on  the  aspens 
that  stood  in  the  driest  spot. 

On  each  trip  to  the  lake  I  saw  tracks,  fur, 


230         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

feathers,  scratches,  and  other  signs  that  told  me 
of  many  of  the  happenings  since  I  was  last  along 
the  trail.  So  many  things  did  I  enjoy  on  the 
way  to  and  from  and  around  this  lake,  that  if 
to-day  I  were  thrown  on  a  wilderness  island,  or 
should  go  to  a  new  home,  I  think  I  would  follow 
my  boyhood  habit — would  go  often  to  the  same 
spot,  and  there  wait  and  watch  for  the  numbers 
of  wild  folk  who  were  certain  to  appear  each 
day. 

I  also  played  home  animal  much  of  the  time, 
and  explored  and  revisited  the  places  all  around 
my  home,  seldom  going  far  from  it.  Other 
places  than  the  lake  were  frequently  visited  and 
watched.  One  of  these  I  have  described  in 
"The  Adventures  of  a  Nature  Guide/'  This 
often  was  as  busy  as  a  three-ring  circus.  This 
wilderness  waiting  place  was  by  a  brook  in  a 
grassy  opening  in  a  tall  spruce  wood. 

One  day  a  lion  ran  by  close  to  where  I  sat 
watching.  Not  a  footfall  did  I  hear.  He  passed 
as  silently  as  a  shadow.  A  dead  limb  broke  and 
fell  from  a  tree.  This  sound  alarmed  a  squirrel 
and  he  peeped  from  behind  a  tree  toward  the 
supposed  danger,  without  showing  himself.  A 
passing  coyote  stopped  at  this  sound.  He  did 
not  move  for  half  a  minute;  then  he  pointed  his 
nose  toward  something  under  the  grass,  lifted 
one  ear,  turned  his  head,  leaped,  and  picked  up  a 


NATURE  GUIDING  AT  HOME  231 

mouse  in  his  teeth  together  with  several  grass- 
blades. 

At  Lily  Lake  and  other  watched  places  I  sat 
on  a  log,  on  the  side  of  a  cliff,  lay  down  by  a  log, 
squatted  in  a  clump  of  bushes,  and  occasionally 
climbed  a  treetop.  Far  above  the  ground  I  was 
not  likely  to  be  either  seen  or  scented. 

There  was  no  end  of  nature  stories.  At  each 
place  watched,  and  often  on  the  way  to  it,  I 
saw  birds  or  animals,  or  both,  do  something 
that  I  had  not  seen  before.  While  I  did  not 
have  a  line  of  traps  out,  by  visiting  places  as 
regularly  as  though  I  had,  I  saw  the  tracks  and 
other  records  which  wild  life  had  made  at  each 
place  since  the  preceding  visit;  and  often  these 
records  were  almost  as  exciting  as  the  wild  life 
itself.  These  signs  and  the  wild  life  either 
made  a  new  story  or  another  chapter  of  a  con- 
tinued story. 

A  dim  trail  which  I  followed  to  a  watched 
place  at  timberline  crossed  a  brook  on  a  log 
that  was  fifteen  or  more  feet  above  the  water. 
Once  I  found  a  lion  lying  on  this  log.  Another 
time,  several  magpies  were  playing  upon  it. 
Over  the  south  end  of  the  log  in  summer  leaned 
tall  stalks  of  mertensia,  their  blue  blooms  five 
feet  above  the  earth.  Higher  still  in  winter 
was  the  top  of  a  snowdrift.  One  January  when 
I  crossed  the  log  this  snowdrift  showed  that 


23 2          WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

during  the  five  preceding  days  and  nights  it  had 
been  used  as  a  bridge  by  squirrels,  rabbits,  porcu- 
pines, mice,  weasels,  and  a  number  of  mountain 
sheep.  By  the  north  end  of  the  log,  where  dur- 
ing September  a  squirrel  had  piled  pine  cones,  a 
coyote  had  crouched  behind  a  spruce  tree  and 
watched  for  the  squirrel.  After  a  long  wait  he 
had  turned  and  gone  off  into  the  spruce  woods 
to  look  for  something  else  to  satisfy  his  hunger. 

Trailing  in  the  snow  nearly  always  gave  me  a 
number  of  things  to  think  about  on  each  trip 
made.  In  following  a  grizzly  for  eight  days  and 
nights  I  had  a  book  full  of  experiences;  these, 
together  with  what  I  found  to  read  about  this 
great  animal,  made  him  more  and  more  inter- 
esting. It  was  something  of  interest  to  know 
that  the  bear,  dog,  and  the  seal  were,  a  million  or 
so  years  ago,  closely  related. 

In  following  one  line  of  tracks  I  often  came  to 
where  this  was  followed,  or  crossed,  by  other 
tracks;  often  I  wanted  to  follow  these  new  ones, 
and  once  I  did.  This  was  when,  following  the 
trail  of  a  mountain  sheep,  I  came  to  where  it  was 
crossed  by  the  trail  of  a  mother  grizzly  with 
only  three  feet,  and  her  two  cubs  who  stopped 
now  and  then  to  romp  and  wrestle  in  the  snow. 

When  a  boy,  the  good  plan  of  learning  to  iden- 
tify twenty-five  or  more  birds,  flowers,  or  ani- 
mals had  not  been  thought  of.  So  I  went  about 


NATURE  GUIDING  AT  HOME  233 

doing  things  in  my  own  way,  and  by  chance  it 
proved  a  good  way  at  least  for  me. 

This  was  getting  well  acquainted  with  home 
territory  together  with  specializing  on  the 
best  spots  in  it.  John  Burroughs  wrote  a 
number  of  books  concerning  experiences  on  his 
long-settled  New  York  farm,  and  Fabre  wrote 
several  books  about  the  small  wild  people  in  his 
yard.  Many  were  the  ways  of  trees,  birds,  and 
animals  that  I  learned  before  I  could  identify 
any  one  of  these.  At  Lily  Lake  and  other 
beaver  colonies  I  learned  twenty-five  or  more 
stories  about  the  beaver,  and  many  of  the  ways  of 
other  animals,  years  before  I  learned  to  identify 
twenty-five  birds  and  animals  combined. 

Among  the  numerous  things  which  I  had  early 
seen  a  beaver  do  were : 

Gnaw  down  trees. 

Carry  mud  in  hands. 

Sit  on  his  tail. 

Carry  mud   and  sticks   between  tail   and 
stomach  while  swimming. 

Dig  a  canal. 

Kill  a  wildcat. 

Run  from  a  wolf. 

Dredge  mud  from  the  bottom  of  the  pond. 

Wrestle  and  play  with  other  beavers. 

Build  part  of  a  dam. 

Float  a  tree  across  a  pond. 


234         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Scratch  himself. 

Brush  flies  off  his  nose. 

Comb  his  fur  with  a  double  claw. 

Whack  the  water  with  his  tail. 
These  and  other  things  seen  in  colonies  the  year 
round,   the  work  and   play  of  Mrs.   and   Mr. 
Beaver  and  the  little  beavers,  gave  me  an  excel- 
lent knowledge  of  beaver  life. 

While  still  a  boy,  a  man  came  along  and 
wanted  someone  to  show  him  a  beaver  colony. 
I  showed  him  three,  and  took  all  day  for  it. 
He  asked  questions  about  beaver  life — I  kept 
track,  and  it  was  forty-seven — all  but  three  of 
which  I  readily  answered,  and  in  addition  told 
him  many  things  that  I  had  seen  of  beaver  life, 
which  he  did  not  ask  about. 

Two  months  later  this  man  sent  a  whole  party 
— men  and  women,  and  boys  and  girls — to  me. 
All  wanted  to  see  a  beaver  colony.  We  spent 
the  entire  day  in  the  Mora'ne  beaver  colony. 
Through  the  years  I  kept  on  going  to  this  colony 
and  on  each  trip  I  learned  something  new  con- 
cerning it.  During  the  years  I  have  written  six 
magazine  articles  concerning  this  one  beaver 
colony. 

A  little  later  a  New  York  newspaper  man  en- 
gaged me  to  guide  him  to  Chasm  Lake.  This 
wild  lake  is  on  the  side  of  Long's  Peak  and  is 
about  12,000  feet  above  sea  level.  On  the  way 


NATURE  GUIDING  AT  HOME  235 

up  I  asked  him  why  there  were  pines  on  the 
sunny  wall  of  the  canon  up  which  we  climbed 
and  spruces  on  the  northerly  facing  wall;  and  I 
also  asked  why  at  timberline  there  were  spruces, 
firs,  and  willows  in  the  moist  places  and  pines 
in  the  near  by  dry  places.  I  told  him  many 
things  concerning  glaciers — how  they  worked 
and  how  they  dug  lake  basins  and  piled  up 
moraines  of  rocks  and  soil. 

I  came  to  be  considered  a  nature  guide.  At 
first  I  gave  my  services  free,  but  as  I  was  so 
often  wanted,  and  had  to  work  for  a  living,  I 
began  to  charge  for  guiding.  People  wanted  to 
see  and  hear  about  rocks,  trees,  birds,  wild 
flowers,  beavers,  bears,  and  everything. 

A  surprise  came  when  a  man  took  me  to  Idaho 
to  guide  through  a  region  I  had  not  seen.  But 
I  knew  how  to  start  a  fire,  and  Idaho  wood  and 
Colorado  wood  behaved  about  the  same;  Idaho 
grizzlies  had  a  different  bill  of  fare,  but  I  found 
that  what  I  had  learned  of  Colorado  grizzlies 
enabled  me  to  understand  them  without  an  in- 
troduction. 

And  so  it  was  during  my  camping  trips  in 
Canada,  Alaska,  and  Mexico;  the  things  that  I 
had  learned  while  in  sight  of  my  cabin  made  me 
more  or  less  at  home  with  the  rocks,  trees,  animals, 
and  beavers  a  thousand  or  more  miles  from  home. 

In  guiding  people  I  found  that  they    cared 


236         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

little  for  identification  marks  until  they  learned 
how  living  things  made  a  living,  what  ad- 
ventures were  their  lot,  when  and  where  the  wild 
folks  worked  and  played — especially  how  they 
played — and  why  each  living  thing  lived  in  a 
particular  locality.  Just  as  people  who  want  the 
story  of  Robinson  Crusoe  care  little  for  the  name 
of  the  author,  or  what  the  book  looks  like — they 
want  to  identify  the  book  by  knowing  the  story. 
So  it  is  with  the  great  story  of  Natural  History; 
it  is  not  the  identification  marks  and  brands  of 
natural  history  figures  that  make  the  outdoors 
delightful  and  helpful.  Ninety-nine  per  cent,  of 
woodcraft  is  first-hand  experience. 

A  tree  that  has  more  than  a  single  leader  or 
top  point  probably  has  had  an  adventure  with 
wind,  porcupine,  a  falling  tree,  insects,  or  some- 
thing that  removed  the  original  single  top. 
So  when  I  see  a  double-topped  tree  I  wonder 
what  has  happened  in  the  treetop.  And  in 
treetops  I  have  had  adyentures  numerous  and 
exciting;  adventures  with  ants,  with  swarms  of 
bees,  with  two  skunks,  with  a  porcupine,  with 
breaking  limbs,  with  two  bear  cubs,  with  a  black 
bear  under  me  coming  up  to  see  what  I  was  like 
— who  was  not  frightened,  while  I  was  frightened 
enough  for  both — and  I  have  watched  forest  fires, 
rain-  and  wind-storms  from  treetops. 

The  information  found  in  treetops  and  else- 


NATURE  GUIDING  AT  HOME  237 

where  was  useful  in  guiding.  I  had  climbed 
Long's  Peak  more  than  forty  times  before  I 
guided  any  one  up.  But  I  did  not  know  too 
much  about  the  peak;  in  fact,  I  learned  some- 
thing new  each  time  I  went  to  the  top  as  a  guide, 
notwithstanding  that  before  guiding  I  had 
climbed  it  in  rain,  wind,  summer,  winter,  day- 
time and  at  night. 

Many  people  thought  that  high  altitude  was 
harmful  and  were  ever  expecting  something 
unpleasant  to  happen  to  them.  If  I  hurried 
them  during  the  climb,  or  if  they  had  banqueted 
the  night  before,  something  like  seasickness  did 
happen.  But  in  due  time  I  learned  that  altitude 
generally  was  helpful  and  not  harmful. 

Most  people  whom  I  guided  thought  that  the 
wilderness  was  full  of  dangerous  animals:  that 
bears,  lions,  and  wolves  were  waiting  for  a 
chance  to  kill  and  eat  them.  All  wild  animals 
in  America  flee  at  the  approach  of  man.  He 
has  been  too  dangerous  an  animal  himself  for  the 
wild  animals  to  allow  close  approach,  or  for 
them  to  take  any  chances  on  coming  close  to 
him.  Fear  of  man  has  developed  wildness  in 
most  animals  and  caused  them  the  world  round 
to  find  safety  first  in  wild  retreat  on  his  approach. 
Exceptions  are  rare,  and  there  are  more  men 
likely  to  kill  a  man  than  there  are  wild  animals 
likely  to  do  so. 


238         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

A  wolf  has  never  offered  to  attack  me,  but 
several  tame  dogs  have.  Any  animal,  and 
perhaps  even  a  worm,  will  fight  in  defence 
of  its  life,  but  only  when  it  cannot  run  away 
from  the  danger.  The  few  cases  of  wild  animals 
attacking  people  appear  to  have  been  those  of 
animals  mentally  deranged. 

I  have  been  surprised  and  delighted  in  many 
out-of-the-way  places  by  wild  animals  who  were 
not  afraid  of  me,  but  who  came  up  for  a  friendly 
look,  and  to  find  out  what  sort  of  a  new  model 
of  an  animal  I  might  be.  In  a  side  canon  of  the 
Grand  Canon,  a  number  of  mountain  sheep 
who  evidently  had  not  before  seen  man  looked 
at  me  with  intense,  curious  interest,  then  came 
up  to  smell  of  me. 

In  the  Yellowstone  Park,  and  in  other  wild- 
life refuges,  birds  and  animals  are  tame,  though 
wild.  The  grizzlies,  except  where  they  have 
been  teased  and  overfed  on  garbage,  are  not 
even  cross.  And  thus  it  is  with  wild  life  under 
many  environments;  it  is  ever  responding — ever 
doing  something  interesting. 

It  is  this  understanding  of  the  wilderness 
and  its  hundreds  of  inhabitants  that  makes  it 
a  wonderland;  and  this  understanding  a  nature 
guide  can  speedily  enable  others  to  acquire  and 
enjoy. 

The  giving  of  most  attention  on  each  trip  to 


NATURE  GUIDING  AT  HOME  239 

one  species  of  tree,  bird,  or  animal,  while  gather- 
ing incidental  information,  is  a  good  plan  to 
practise.  This  idea  may  be  extended  over  several 
trips.  The  nature  guide  should  be  a  good  all- 
round  guide  in  natural  history,  and  he  may  also 
be  an  expert  concerning  tree  life,  the  beaver, 
butterflies,  or  geology. 

The  essential  of  nature  guiding  is  a  thorough 
understanding  of  something,  and  the  ability  to 
transfer  this  information  clearly,  entertainingly, 
to  others.  A  guide  must  be  able  to  talk — not 
too  much — and  in  talking,  say  things  in  the  right 
way.  A  guide,  if  he  really  knows  principles,  will 
be  able  to  talk  to  one  person  in  the  field,  or  to 
many;  he  will  rapidly  learn  to  address  those  who 
listen  around  the  camp-fire,  or  in  a  hall;  or  to 
write  so  that  his  ideas  will  be  read  by  thousands. 

Several  times  I  have  gone  along  as  a  nature 
guide  in  a  region  that  I  did  not  know,  and  re- 
ceived three  times  the  wage  of  the  other  guide 
who  knew  only  the  way,  and  how  to  camp. 
People  of  all  ages  enjoy  hearing  the  real  facts  con- 
cerning outdoor  things.  In  Kansas  City  years 
ago  a  boy  who  was  the  son  of  a  millionaire 
guided  me  among  the  bluffs  and  along  the  river. 
He  did  not  charge  for  guiding.  He  was  planning 
to  be  a  farmer;  he  was  a  live,  happy  boy,  and 
what  he  had  learned  outdoors  had  done  more  to 
develop  him  than  all  other  experiences. 


240         WAITING  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

Often  I  have  had  people  who  were  naturalists 
guide  me  through  some  place  of  interest.  John 
Muir  kindly  showed  me  the  Redwoods,  and  a 
celebrated  geologist  allowed  me  to  camp  with 
him  for  two  weeks  in  and  along  the  Grand 
Canon. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  have  been  fortunate  in 
having  a  number  of  people  who  are  famous,  each 
in  a  particular  line,  allow  me  to  guide  them 
afield. 

Already  there  is  need  for  one  or  more  nature 
guides  in  every  locality.  In  many  of  these  the 
need  is  for  expert  guides  who  charge  for  their 
services.  Every  boy  who  knows  the  wild  places 
near  his  home,  or  who  understands  intimately 
some  one  thing  in  the  outdoors — why  a  living 
thing  is  where  and  what  it  is — will  have  many 
advantages  that  no  other  knowledge  can  give 
him.  Outdoor  experiences  are  educational  and 
they  are  lastingly  useful.  Fortunate  the  boy 
who,  like  the  bear,  knows  every  nook  and  corner 
of  his  home  territory. 

The  most  likely  places  for  paid  nature  guides 
are  the  National  Parks,  National  Forests,  State 
Parks,  and  wilderness  spots  in  the  mountains 
or  by  the  sea,  where  people  come  to  rest  and 
exercise. 

A  nature  guide  who  plans  to  continue  in  this  for 
a  life  work,  or  for  some  years,  will  need  to  prepare 


NATURE  GUIDING  AT  HOME  241 

thoroughly  for  guiding.  He  needs  to  camp  in 
wild  places,  and  there  study  the  trees,  flowers, 
birds,  rocks,  animals,  and  insects,  and  supplement 
this  with  books  and  with  talks  with  people  who 
know.  It  requires  as  much  preparation  to  be- 
come a  top-notch  guide  as  an  author,  lawyer,  or 
engineer  who  is  in  class  A.  But  I  feel  that 
guiding  is  more  fun. 

Nature — that  is,  the  rocks  with  their  stories, 
the  streams,  and  wild  life — is  ever  interesting. 
No  matter  what  one's  occupation,  he  wants, 
now  and  then,  a  vacation  outdoors.  If,  as  a  boy, 
he  was  well  enough  acquainted  with  the  wild 
life  to  be  a  guide,  he  will  ever  have  something 
that  will  delightfully  guide  him  during  these  va- 
cations. And  this  wilderness  lore  will  enable  him 
a  thousand  times  during  his  happy  years  to  give 
a  lively  enjoyment  to  others. 


THE    END 


THE   COUNTRY  LIFE   PRESS 
GARDEN  CITY,  N.  Y. 


14  DAY  USE 

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